


Courtship of the Owl

by NicheKinks



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Aristocrat!Akaashi, Fluff, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning, Injury, M/M, Night Terrors/Nightmares, Original Character Death(s), Pining, Slow Burn, Stablehand!Bokuto, bed sharing, mild explicit content, poliosis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2018-11-18 07:47:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 66,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11286831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicheKinks/pseuds/NicheKinks
Summary: The Akaashi family estate hires a new stablehand to help with the newborn foal come spring;A man with a beaming smile, bright eyes, and owlish hair.Akaashi loves owls.A story of cute stableboys, ethereal aristocrats, adorable animals, quirky friends, and getting together despite it all.Check End Notes for Links to Artwork





	1. The Most Ethereal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto's life begins a new chapter.

[Chapter 1: The Most Ethereal] 

_Cute lil’ chicky-chickens! Lil’ clucky birds o’ feather cluckin’ around together~_

Bokuto hummed and spread some feed on the ground for the chickens at his feet and pet one of the hens gently as she ate. He didn’t really have a good excuse why he came and fed them sometimes. They weren’t even his chickens. That didn’t mean he didn’t love them anyways. He even gave them all names. _Ashitaka, Jiji, Mei, Nago, Muta, though sometimes he got Muta and Mei mixed up ‘cause they looked so alike, Teto-_

“Pardon me?” 

Bokuto blinked from his thoughts. He rose from a squat on the cobble side-path between the market stalls and looked towards the voice that interrupted his humming. Maybe the man was the owner of the chickens? The man looked nice enough. Perhaps a little nicer than Bokuto was used to in tailored dark slacks and expensive looking fine leather boots to match. Curly dark hair with greying strands well styled and immaculate. The stranger was even wearing an ascot tie and stylish hat with a richly colored silk band to match his walking cane and pocket square. 

He suddenly felt little self-conscious of the amount of mud caked to the ends of his work trousers and the chickens clucking noisily at his feet. Even if maybe they were the man’s chickens. 

“Uh, yes?” Bokuto said slowly, unable to tear his gaze away from the man’s eyes once he saw them, greenish blue and piercing like the sea in a hurricane, “Can I…help you, sir?” 

The man smiled, but it was all business. There was no real mirth or warmth in the gesture, only polite formalities. 

“I hope so. You’re Bokuto Koutarou, correct? I was told you were in need of work. Takeyuki recommended you.” 

An excited gasp, and Bokuto absolutely beamed. Bright would be an understatement. Bokuto looked like he suddenly contained the entirety of the sun, vibrating with energy and the widest grin humanly possible. He jumped in excitement, sending a flurry of startled chickens in a panic around the stranger. 

“Yes!! Oh, yes! I would love to! I’m an excellent worker! The best even,” he proudly lifted his chin and rested his hands on his hips, “I can do anything you ask me to!” 

“Excellent to hear,” the man pulled a small piece of paper from his coat pocket and extended it out to Bokuto, “Here is the address of the manor where you will be employed and housed. You are welcome to arrive as soon as you are capable. I was told you were good with animals and-” 

“I love animals!” 

The man gave him a weary look at the interruption, dusting off chicken feathers from his coat before smiling at the endearing childishness. 

“I will let the house staff know to expect you then.” 

Then as quickly as he had arrived, the man was turning on his heel to leave. A quick moment, a flutter of a nice dress coat and the clack of bootheels on the stone and the man was gone. Bokuto hadn’t even gotten his name. He stared at the address on the slip of paper with a wide smile. Finally, he was going to get to work again. He was going to work and live in some fancy estate where he could eat food and stay warm, and Bokuto was walking on cloud nine. 

He would have to send thanks to Takeyuki next time he saw him. 

With an upbeat hum and a pep in his step, Bokuto bid farewell to the chickens, Teto especially since she was his favorite, and practically skipped home to pack his few possessions and let his housemates know the good news. 

He wasn’t sure when he was expected to arrive at the estate, so he figured spending one more night at home and heading out in the morning sounded reasonable. Assuming he wasn’t too excited to sleep, of course. 

*** 

Bokuto realized perhaps a bit later than most would have that fancy was too bland a word for the estate as he walked up the polished stone lane. 

The home was elegant with winding stonework pathways that lead to a stable and staff housing to the east, and to the north, a separate brick building of which Bokuto wasn’t sure the purpose despite the stacks of thick smoke erupting from the chimney. Rich browns and blues with subtle gold highlights adorned the wood of the manor with decorative bushes in artistic shapes along the sides. It was obvious they hired an excellent and dedicated gardener. 

And they had two carriages! _Two carriages_ complete with decorated interior. Bokuto couldn’t help but peek into them as he walked past them, smiling at the beautifully carved wood and embroidered patterns of the seats and door handle. 

Where others may have felt intimidated, Bokuto was elated. He had never seen somewhere so stunning. Bokuto felt like a child in a candy shop. He stopped more than once on the walk across the estate to admire the groves of trees and gardens, pastures filled with horses or livestock, and the small river brimming with fish of all sorts that coursed through the grounds. The call of pheasants could be heard in nearby trees. There were even a few peacocks and turkeys Bokuto could spot in the distance. 

It was absolutely beautiful, and Bokuto was already feeling at home. 

That was, of course, until he stood at the impressively large wooden door embellished with a gold owl door knocker. The owl decoration looked cool to the touch and impassive with wings outstretched and looped into a clasp for the individual to grasp. With a sharp inhale of breath, he grabbed the metal knocker and rapped on the wood sharply. Meer seconds passed before he heard a pitter of steps and the door swung open to reveal a cute house worker with tan hair and a welcoming smile. 

“Hello! You must be the new stablehand? Bokuto-something?” she inquired, pulling the door open wider to allow Bokuto step through, “I’m Suzumeda Kaori. Please, come in.” 

Bokuto was comforted to hear the casual tone in the lady’s voice. Casual was good. Casual was familiar. He could do casual. 

“Ah, yeah, Bokuto Koutarou, that’s me,” Bokuto laughed loudly, suddenly realizing he wasn’t sure the name of the manor. It was a bit late to ask. 

“Well, welcome to the Akaashi estate! The masters of the house are currently out, but they told me to let you in and show you around the grounds so you may become acquainted.” 

_Akaashi._

Bokuto repeated the name in his mind a couple times, trying to commit it to memory. He vaguely wondered what the name of the man who hired him yesterday was, probably Akaashi. Akaashi something-or-another. He didn’t dwell on the thought. 

A quick glance around the entryway of the home left the impression that the interior was even more immaculate than the exterior, but large open windows with natural sunlight kept the atmosphere homely and warm. A large piano sat beside the window furthest from the door, the sun casting light across the ivory. Bokuto had never seen such expensive décor, vases with flowers he’d seen in the gardens outside, large paintings of nature, and even a large ticking grandfather clock breaking the silence with a monotonous _tick tock._

There was a winding staircase disappearing into the upper floors, and Bokuto peeked up as they walked past. By the looks of it, he guessed there was at least three floors. 

Suzumeda escorted Bokuto through the estate and grounds, completing the tour with the stables where he was to be working. The building was quite immense, easily capable of housing a few dozen equine, smelling of hay and animal dander. It felt familiar and comfortable. Bokuto doesn’t waste single moment before approaching the stalls to pet the noses of the few horses inside and venturing out into the pasture to see the rest. 

At some point in his exploring, he had lost Suzumeda. Or she had simply chosen not to follow him. He wasn’t surprised, as people tended to do that with him. He realized he hadn’t really been listening to what she was saying anyways. 

Oops. 

When he stepped out into the lush green of the pasture, he could see the silhouettes of mares and foal in the distance, too far away to pet but close enough to admire. He shrugged to himself. There would be time to learn every one of the horses’ names later. A deep breath of fresh air, and Bokuto was feeling like taking this job was the best decision he had ever made, even if the man hadn’t told him what he would be doing exactly. Not that he had been in any position to turn work down. 

As he turned to walk back to the stable, something caught his eye. Or rather, _someone._

There was a man sitting beneath one of the pear trees near the white fence of the pasture, slender fingers clasped around a small book. Bokuto smiled. He figured he should go introduce himself, meandering across the grass towards the pear tree. The closer Bokuto walked to the man, the more beautiful he became with soft black curls of hair that framed his face and a smooth complexion. He had the inexplicable urge to get close enough to see the faint shadows cast upon high cheekbones from the man’s long lashes. 

Bokuto wanted to know everything there was to know about this stranger. Breathtaking. Ethereal, that’s what the man was. When Bokuto was standing before him, he finally looked up from his novel and pierced Bokuto’s heart with a gaze of oddly familiar sharp sea green eyes. 

_Oh._

It took Bokuto a moment to realize he was unabashedly staring with his mouth agape. His cheeks felt a bit warm. Bokuto may have even audibly squeaked, he wasn’t sure. He clamped his mouth shut embarrassedly. The man looked rather nonplussed at best, quirking an eyebrow and looking Bokuto up and down. It didn’t feel judging just…curious. Inquisitive. 

“Hi.” 

It wasn’t the smoothest opening he could have done, but Bokuto was proud to have gotten anything comprehensible out of his mouth at that point. The man continued to look at him curiously, blinking a couple times as if to wake himself. 

“Hello,” he said slowly, and a look of realization flashed through his eyes, blinking again, “Oh, you must be the new stablehand. I was under the impression that miss Suzumeda was supposed to be giving you a tour?” 

“I think I lost her,” Bokuto shrugged with a chuckle. 

The man smiled at him and Bokuto couldn’t help but think he was even more dashing when he smiled. His eyes crinkled up ever so slightly and his look softened. Bokuto could feel his heart begin to race, and he shifted back and forth nervously from foot to foot with a sway that rocked his whole figure. 

“Hmm, well,” the man stood slowly from the grass, pocketing the small book and dusting off his pants with his hands, “Has she introduced you to Sarukui and Komi? They will be who you will see most often.” 

He seemed to ponder something for a moment before continuing, shifting a bit awkwardly and fidgeting. Or maybe he was waiting for Bokuto to answer his question? But Bokuto couldn’t take his eyes off him, the way his fingers gently rubbed and tugged on one another seemingly out of habit. Despite his fidgeting, Akaashi’s eyes never left Bokuto. 

For perhaps the first time in his life, Bokuto was having a difficult time crafting words. 

“Akaashi Keiji,” the man finally said, breaking his fidgeting ritual to extend a hand out for Bokuto to shake. 

“Oh! That’s why! I’ve seen your eyes before!” Bokuto shook his hand enthusiastically. Perhaps a little too enthusiastically, judging by Akaashi’s wince. 

“Why? My… eyes?” 

“Yeah! Yesterday the man who hired me had eyes just like yours! They’re really pretty!” 

“Oh, you must have met my father then,” Akaashi seemed relieved despite the faint pink to his cheeks, running his fingers through his hair before walking to the stables with a gesture for Bokuto to follow. Bokuto complied without hesitance. He felt like he was under a spell. A spell that he had absolutely no objections to if he were to be completely consumed by it entirely. 

“Sarukui and Komi work in the stables as well. Komi is our jockey, entering the races and conditioning the horses, and Sarukui handles much of the handy work around the stable and barn, fixing fences and doing tack repair as well as leatherwork,” Akaashi explained, “I anticipate you will become to know them rather well since you’ll likely be working in close quarters often and staying in the house staff quarters with them and the other staff.” 

Bokuto only nodded, walking closely to Akaashi. His eyes never left him. He wasn’t sure he could look away if he wanted to. It felt like a treat to watch Akaashi. He was so pretty and lithe as he moved with familiar grace into the creaking wood of the stable. 

A large crash in a side room tore Bokuto from his trance. He whipped around just in time to see a lanky brown haired man fall to the floor on his side, laughing with the smallest bit of tears collected on the corners of his eyes. There was leather grease smeared across his face in what looked like a handprint. Without missing a beat, Bokuto jogged over to extend a hand to help him up. After a small moment of confusion by the stranger, he took the hand and got to his feet. 

Akaashi didn’t seem the least bit surprised or concerned on the matter. 

“Whoa, you’re a big guy, huh?” 

A smaller man popped out from the doorway with a wide smile and warm eyes. By how small he was, it was easy to assume that the small grease handprint on the other man’s face belonged to him. Bokuto liked them already. 

“This is Sarukui Yamato and Komi Haruki. And this is…” Akaashi paused for a moment, “I’m sorry, I don’t think you told me your name.” 

“Bokuto Koutarou!” 

“Bokuto,” Akaashi repeated. 

Soft footsteps on the wood of the stable floors, and a blond walked into view, his attention immediately fixating onto Akaashi. He spared Bokuto a glance with narrow eyes as he passed, and then a second glance with slightly furrowed brows before handing Akaashi an envelope. Bokuto wasn’t worried about it. He was used to getting double-takes. 

It was all a part of looking like he does, he supposed. 

“Konoha,” Akaashi greeted calmly, taking the envelope, “This is Bokuto Koutarou, the new stablehand. And Bokuto, this is Konoha Akinori, my personal aide.” 

Akaashi didn’t look up at Bokuto as he spoke, his attention focused on opening the letter. Bokuto tried not to take it personally. Konoha quirked an eyebrow at Bokuto, looking at him perhaps a bit too thoroughly. He felt like those slim brown eyes were a little too judging for his tastes. 

“Oh? Oookay,” Konoha drawled, smirking a bit at Bokuto’s pout, “Nice to make your acquaintance, Bokuto.” 

Bokuto didn’t answer, but grinned toothily and shook his hand a bit too hard. Konoha’s lips pursed and eyes sharp, but he didn’t make a sound. Instead, when Bokuto released his hand, he turned to Akaashi without giving Bokuto any further attention. 

“Sir Sakusa requested your company,” he said blandly, as if it were the dullest occurrence. 

“Of course,” Akaashi nodded, pulling his eyes up from the letter to follow Konoha out of the stables. 

Bokuto noticed Konoha opened every door on the way out and seemed to put exquisite care into ensuring Akaashi was comfortable, even in the simple task of traveling across his own estate. It seemed a little odd, but he assumed this was the purpose of a personal aide, seeing as he had never met one before. 

As soon as they were gone, Bokuto turned to Sarukui and Komi with a bright smile. 

“He’s so pretty.” 

The shared look between Sarukui and Komi said more than Bokuto could hope to comprehend. 

*** 

Weeks pass, _weeks,_ and Akaashi still cannot seem to comprehend the eccentric new stablehand. Wild two-toned hair, bright gold eyes, and a voice that carried on for acres, that’s all that Akaashi could think about. Not that there was much chance to think of anything else, as no matter where on the property he was, he could always hear excited shouts and happy humming coming from Bokuto. 

If nothing else, Bokuto’s happiness was rather contagious. 

Bokuto was a bizarre man. An outlandish man with seemingly no past or relatives to speak of and the unwavering optimism and energy of a small child. With a sigh, Akaashi fastened the button on his riding trousers and slipped his feet into his boots. He hadn’t spoken to the new stablehand since the day they had first met, so with a sense of purpose he stepped from his quarters and walked to the stables. 

Bokuto was dutifully cleaning out the stalls when Akaashi approached, humming an unfamiliar tune and almost… dancing? The man seemed to have an endless supply of energy. Akaashi couldn’t help but be a little envious of that. 

“Bokuto,” he greeted calmly. 

The stablehand’s head whipped around so fast Akaashi wasn’t sure how he managed not to sprain his neck. Wide eyes and the biggest smile- 

“Akaashi!” he exclaimed, “Sir Akaashi, hey!” 

The shovel that had been in Bokuto’s hand clamored loudly to the floor but Bokuto didn’t give it an ounce of attention. 

“Akaashi is just fine, Bokuto,” Akaashi corrected, “I would like to go for a leisure ride. If you would please, prepare a horse for me.” 

“Of course! I’ll go right now!” 

“Thank you, Bokuto.” 

He was already gone, sprinting out the stable doors into the pasture. Akaashi sighed, leaning against the wooden wall beside him and peered into the nearest stall while he waited for Bokuto. What was inside the stall always made him smile. A small foal with a dappled grey coat and thick mane looked back at him from the other side of the gate. 

“Hey you,” Akaashi whispered, petting the soft grey nose that poked up and pulling out strands of hay from the forelock. 

This foal had become Akaashi’s favorite. He was particularly small, but his fur shined and he always had so much energy. He was going to become a strong stallion someday, and Akaashi looked forward to training him more in the coming months. For now, he settled for petting the cute creature and reaching over for a brush from the shelf. 

Akaashi was almost done grooming the excitable foal by the time Bokuto came back in with an elegant chestnut mare on a lead rope and harness. He seemed surprised to see Akaashi in the stall with the foal, stopping at the gate to peer in with round gold eyes and let the foal and mare brush noses affectionately. 

“You like the horses, Akaashi?” 

“Of course,” Akaashi ran his fingers through the foal’s mane, detangling little knots as he went, “this foal is my favorite.” 

“Does he have a name yet?” Bokuto asked as he placed a small English saddle on the mare’s back. 

“Hmm,” Akaashi pondered the dapple grey colors and streaked mane, “Fukuro, I think.” 

“Fukuro?” Akaashi heard the leather straps of the girth fastening, “Like an owl? My name means an owl too! Do you like owls, Akaashi?!” 

“Ah, yes,” he admitted, avoiding the intense look he could feel eminating from Bokuto, “He has the colors of a lot of the owls in this area, don’t you think? Come to speak of it, so does your hair.” 

“Oh, yeah! That’s probably why they named me what they did, huh?” 

Akaashi didn’t have time to wonder who ‘they’ was, and how they apparently had chosen his family name instead of Bokuto inheriting it before the stablehand was slipping the bit into the mare’s mouth and fastening the buckle on the bridle with ease. 

“Well, here ya go! She’s all ready, Akaashi!” 

“Thank you, Bokuto.” 

*** 

Upon the evening’s break, Akaashi sat with Konoha for his routine supper tea in his study. Konoha had always been beside him, assisting him in everything from mundane tasks to keeping him company while his parents were away for business, which was unfortunately quite frequent. Ever since their youth, Konoha always joined Akaashi for tea in the evenings, and Akaashi wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Konoha placed the familiar bronze tray on the table between them, taking care in pouring the tea. He added a cube of sugar in Akaashi’s, and Akaashi watched him as he stirred it slowly, small ripples smoothing over the surface of the tea. It was familiar, a routine they played out every evening. Konoha would prepare the tea, and they would sit in companionable silence and peer out the window with a few occasional comments of little significance. 

At times, it appeared there was some overt fondness in Konoha’s attentions and actions for Akaashi, but Akaashi tried not to concern himself with it too much. He attributed it to the closeness of their upbringing. 

They sat for a moment, peering out the window at the colorful sky and incoming cloud cover while they sipped quietly. It was relaxing after a lengthy day. 

“The new stablehand is…something,” Akaashi murmured into his cup. 

Konoha snickered, it was a little unbecoming, but Akaashi didn’t mind. He was kind of fond if it, even if it wasn’t always the most attractive habit of Konoha’s. 

“That’s certainly a way to put it, isn’t it?” 

A frown tugged at Akaashi’s lips, although brief and subtle. 

“Not so fond of him?” 

“Bokuto is a… quirky man more than a bit out of his wits but he is enthusiastic nonetheless,” Konoha explained with crinkle of his nose, as if that in and of itself detailed his feelings for the stablehand. 

Akaashi only hummed and sipped his tea, considering what Konoha had said. It wasn’t an inaccurate description, but it also felt…shallow. There were a lot of things they didn’t know about Bokuto. He remembered his conversation with Bokuto regarding names earlier, and his mysterious mention of his name being chosen for him. Akaashi pondered if Bokuto was aware that family names are not chosen, but instead inherited. He wouldn’t be surprised if this came as news to the stablehand. 

“I have trouble seeing beyond his appearance,” Konoha admitted abruptly, “His _hair.”_

“I don’t believe he does it on purpose, Konoha,” Akaashi couldn’t help but smile, “There’s a condition, though I don’t recall the specifications of it, that causes that. I’ll have to look it back up again. It’s here in one of my books.” 

“Oh? Let me know when you find out. I’m curious,” Konoha replied. 

“I’ll be sure to inquire upon it tomorrow.” 

They enjoyed the remainder of their tea in silence, enjoying the comfortable company and watching out the large glass paned window as the sun painted violets and oranges amongst the blue of the sky. It was Akaashi’s favorite time of day, when evening turned into twilight and the world around them seemed to almost glow in soft colors. It was quiet and peaceful. 

Beyond the window, Akaashi could see Bokuto and Sarukui rounding up the remaining horses from the pasture for the night. He was happy to see that they appeared to be cooperating just fine, working together as a team to coax the more unruly horses into the stalls for their nightly grooming and oats. Fukuro was an excitable foal, always hard to catch and playing games by trotting circles just barely out of reach. It made Akaashi smile, watching Bokuto tempt the bouncy horse with something in his hand. Sugar cubes, probably. It was too dark for Akaashi to see what exactly, but it was no secret that the key to Fukuro’s heart was sugar. 

Konoha was watching him, his gaze flickering between Akaashi’s face and the stable workers outside. Akaashi paid it no mind. He knew Konoha always seemed to be too curious on Akaashi’s thoughts. A final sip of tea, and Akaashi set the glass upon the table. It was filled within moments, Konoha as attentive and sharp as ever. 

“You will begin training with the new foal soon?” Konoha inquired suddenly. 

Akaashi pulled his attention from the window to meet Konoha’s eyes. He studied him for a moment. Konoha had never expressed interest in the horses or their training in the past. 

“I do anticipate so,” Akaashi smiled, “Fukuro will make a most gorgeous stallion and companion for me in the future, I think.” 

The blond nodded, seemingly lost in thought, before standing with a mild stretch. Akaashi watched as he gathered the kettle and cups onto the tea tray with practiced ease. Something felt particularly off, but Akaashi didn’t inquire. Konoha was allowed his privacy, and Akaashi would not intrude upon it. If Konoha had a thought to voice, Akaashi had faith he would voice it when he was ready to do so. 

Akaashi finished his cup and deposited it on the tray. 

“Need you anything else for the night?” 

“I am quite fine, thank you.” 

Konoha nodded and bid him goodnight, clicking the door shut behind him. Akaashi was left in silence and solitude within the study, leaning his chin upon his hand and watching Bokuto wrangle the final horse into the stable. He watched Bokuto slap Sarukui on the back and laugh, and even despite the distance and closed window, Akaashi swore he could hear it ringing through the air. 

With a hum and restless tap on the table with his fingertips, Akaashi rose and meandered back to his sleeping quarters. The candle at his bedside blown out, he laid in darkness and stared. His mind felt simultaneously racing and empty. Somewhere below, he could hear the constant tick of his family’s grandfather clock and the crickets and frogs beyond the glass pane of the window. 

Tomorrow, he decided, he would begin training the new foal and seek to learn more about their most recently hired stablehand. Akaashi turned onto his side, facing towards the window. He watched the stars, curling up tighter in the blankets. A shooting star pierced through the sky, and hesitantly, he considered his wish. 

A few possibilities passed through his thoughts, but in the end, he decided only to wish for weather fair enough to train the horses to his heart’s content. Then, he felt, he wouldn’t be asking much. 

Akaashi drifted into sleep, his thoughts consumed by odd stableboys and cute bouncy foal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cookies for anyone who recognizes where the chickens' names are from! <3 
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	2. Melodic Silver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Working with a friend was always most enjoyable, but Bokuto found it especially true in the presence of Akaashi Keiji.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to my beta readers for catching my stupid typos~  
> I'm quite sure everyone appreciates it

[Chapter 2: Melodic Silver] 

Bokuto thought he was doing rather well at his new job. He spent time with all the animals, feeding, grooming, socializing with them. Sarukui and Komi were quickly becoming excellent companions, teasing and keeping him company in the off hours as well as while they worked. Bokuto especially enjoyed Komi’s company, who often accompanied him through his chores in the stables and taught him more about horses. Although he worked with all the animals on the estate, the horses were his favorite. 

Working with the horses meant he was more likely to see _Akaashi._

This day in particular was one Bokuto would never forget, and he most definitely did not want to. It was the first day that Akaashi came to train the horses clad in the tightest white trousers Bokuto had ever seen. Tight white trousers that reflected the sunlight brilliantly with knee high black boots and a dark navy blue riding coat; that’s what he was wearing. The fit of the clothes showed off lean muscle of calves and thighs, and hugged the curve of his hips… 

Bokuto nearly forgot that he was supposed to be readying a horse for Akaashi to ride after he was finished with his current activity. He felt transfixed. 

Those pants quickly became his favorite pair and he’d never even worn them himself. 

“Those are dressage pants,” Komi explained knowingly upon seeing Bokuto’s mouth agape and gaze captivated upon Akaashi in the pasture. Not that his attention wasn’t most often bewitched by Akaashi. 

Bokuto nodded mindlessly. He didn’t know exactly what dressage was but he was thankful it existed. 

Akaashi was doing lunging exercises with Fukuro, teaching him the basic commands of walk, trot, and canter through systematic clicks of his tongue. Even as just a foal, Fukuro was learning quickly, though he had bumped playfully into Akaashi once or twice. Bokuto couldn’t blame him. He could relate. 

He’d love to bump into Akaashi too. 

Bokuto flushed and coughed awkwardly at his own thoughts, earning a quirked eyebrow from Komi and Sarukui beside him. They leaned forward on the fencing, watching Akaashi twirl the leadrope along the ground and repeat commands for the feisty foal to follow. Fukuro reared up against the leadrope occasionally, but Akaashi was firm handed. It made Bokuto worry, the thought of Akaashi becoming injured having him chew his lip a bit anxiously. 

When Akaashi completed the day’s training without a hitch, Bokuto was relieved. He walked a gelding he had prepared for riding to Akaashi in the pasture, in turn taking Fukuro’s leadrope. 

“Akaashi, you want help training next time?” Bokuto sucked on the inside of his cheek and chewed on his bottom lip. He wasn’t sure why he felt so nervous. 

“I prefer to train the horses myself,” Akaashi replied, quickly continuing when he saw Bokuto deflate, “Although, you are welcome to help with farrier work and grooming upon my return, Bokuto.” 

Bokuto grinned wildly and nodded, waving to Akaashi as he mounted the gelding and turned to canter towards the river, leaving Bokuto to walk the foal back to the stable. Grooming a horse really was a one person job, but he wasn’t going to complain. 

“Akaashi has never let me help with the training either, don’t feel bad,” Komi consoled with a pat on Bokuto’s back as he entered the stable with the foal. 

“He’s never let us help with the grooming neither,” Sarukui added with a smile, watching Bokuto pull the harness from the foal’s muzzle. 

“Akaashi’s always polite in his dismissal, though-” 

“Akaashi always brushes all the horses himself?” Bokuto asked abruptly. It was apparent he hadn’t been listening, “He never let anyone help?” 

Komi shook his head and Sarukui nodded simultaneously. They looked between each other and Komi motioned for him to explain with a vague hand gesture. 

“When they were young, Konoha used to help Akaashi with the horses at times,” Sarukui explained, “Though, I don’t think Konoha was ever fond of the creatures. In fact, he always seemed rather timid around them.” 

“Konoha doesn’t like horses?” Bokuto pet the foal on the neck before allowing him to walk back into the pasture out the large stable doors, “Does he not like animals?” 

“He rather enjoys dogs,” Komi laughed, resting his hand on his hip and leaning a bit into Sarukui beside him. 

“And goats,” Sarukui bumped Komi with his hip, “Konoha always liked feedin’ the goats.” 

Maybe Konoha wasn’t so bad. Goats were just like puppies with hooves who enjoyed playing headbutt games. Anyone who liked goats couldn’t be all bad! Sure, Bokuto and Konoha were not the best of friends, but Bokuto recognized he didn’t really have a reason to dislike him. Well, no reason aside from that sneer he caught Konoha giving him a little too frequently. 

Bokuto stretched and yawned. It was already beyond noon, and having spent the morning watching Akaashi train Fukuro in those tight pants, he was behind in his stable cleaning. With a sigh and a smile, he set to work. 

It is almost supper hour when Akaashi returned, walking with the click of expensive bootheels on the hardwood floor of the stable and a sweaty gelding in tow. For a brief moment, Bokuto watched a single drop of sweat trail down Akaashi’s brow before it was wiped away with a gloved hand. He froze and swallowed nervously when Akaashi noticed him watching, his face feeling a tad warmer than it aught. Bokuto rushed to lean the pitchfork against the wall of the hay storage, eager to help with the farrier work and grooming as promised. 

“Bokuto,” Akaashi greeted quietly, handing the reins of the bridle to the stablehand. 

“Akaashi!! How was your ride?” 

“Quite well. Thank you,” Akaashi sighed. Bokuto thought it to be a bit more exasperated than the words portrayed. 

Akaashi retrieved brushes from the nearby shelving as Bokuto removed the saddle from the bay gelding. 

They continued in silence for a moment, Akaashi running the brush through the gelding’s fur and Bokuto pulling a hoof pick to the underside of the hoof. Bokuto was mindlessly humming, content to be around Akaashi and the horses. In fact, he might even boast it his most favorite place to be. 

His mind wandered back to his earlier conversation with Komi and Sarukui. 

“Akaashi, does Konoha like horses?” 

Akaashi paused, blinking a moment. He seemed roused from his thoughts, looking at Bokuto over the horse’s back rather blankly. 

“No,” he answered slowly, “I do not believe he does. He is rather uncomfortable around them. He always has been. Why do you inquire upon it, Bokuto?” 

“Oh! Um, no particular reason. We were just talking earlier and I...I was wondering is all.” 

A small hum is all Bokuto received in response, but it felt light and musical as much as it was contemplative. He loved the sound of it. Bokuto smiled and hummed a tune as he lifted another hoof from the floor. They were ignorant to the grinning audience of Sarukui and Komi just around the corner, Sarukui’s hand clamped over Komi’s mouth to stifle his excitement. 

When the work with the gelding was done, Akaashi didn’t leave the stable immediately as Bokuto expected, wandering around to visit the other horses in the stalls as Bokuto began to bring the horses in from the pasture. Normally, Sarukui would be helping him, but Bokuto found he didn’t mind just being alone with Akaashi and the horses, even if it meant he had more work to do. 

He could hear occasional whispers from Akaashi to the horses, indecipherable but endearing. Bokuto would steal glances at Akaashi as he brought in each horse, and it took every ounce of self control he could muster not to shout excitedly when he caught Akaashi leaving a gentle kiss the foal’s soft nose. It was the most adorable thing he had ever seen. 

Bokuto was so content working with Akaashi in the stable that he didn’t spend a single moment wondering where Sarukui was and why he wasn’t helping like he should have been. Akaashi wasn’t helping persay, but his presence alone was enough for Bokuto. 

Working with a friend was always most enjoyable, but Bokuto found it especially true in the presence of Akaashi Keiji. 

*** 

Dusk approached rapidly, and Akaashi found comfort in his nightly ritual of tea with Konoha in the study. While Konoha set the tea to Akaashi’s tastes, Akaashi flipped page beyond page of a thick book with leather binding. It was quiet between them, only the rustle of paper and the melodic clink of silver spoons and sugar cubes in the teacups giving sound. 

With a pleasant sigh, Konoha rested in the chair opposite Akaashi, grasping the warm cup of tea in his hands tightly and gazing out the window into the pasture. He was slouched a bit unattractively, but Akaashi paid it no mind. Rather, Konoha seemed a bit exasperated, as if on his wits end from a long day. 

“How progresses the training of the new foal?” Konoha asked suddenly, and Akaashi looked up from his book to find Konoha’s gaze locked upon him. 

This was two consecutive days of which Konoha inquired about the horses. It was very odd behavior, and Akaashi recalled the conversation he had with Bokuto only hours previous. Konoha was rather uncomfortable around horses at best, which further confounded Akaashi as to why he appeared to suddenly take an interest in them. He couldn’t help but consider that it instead had more to do with the new stablehand. 

“Fukuro appears to be soon ready for saddled lunge training,” Akaashi replied with a curious eye, “He is doing quite well on his training, although as energetic as ever.” 

Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, Akaashi recognized similar was true for Bokuto. 

The blond nodded, seemingly consumed in his thoughts. Akaashi returned his attention back to the book in his grasp, a hefty leaf of medical documentation. He scoured through the pages, sure that the information he sought was hidden somewhere within, scrawled in black ink. Upon finding what he sought within, Akaashi clamped the book shut and set it upon the table with a satisfied smile. 

Konoha certainly noticed, but didn’t ask. Much of their communications didn’t require words. 

“How is the household, Konoha?” Akaashi asked. 

“They are...well. There isn’t anything of particular news among the staff, although the recent courtship attempts of two stablehands have been of popular gossip between Yukie and Suzumeda while they prepare suppers.” Konoha spoke slowly, carefully, watching Akaashi for reaction. It was mutual. 

“Sarukui and Komi, yes? They _have_ been rather friendly amongst one another recently,” Akaashi mused, “I would think they seem rather suited for one another.” 

Konoha snickered, his hand covering his mouth in some resemblance of courtesy. 

“It would make for a rather cute child, don’t you think? Loud and uninhibited like Komi, I would imagine.” 

“A child?” 

“Yeah, well… Komi is of the fairer sex, although that’s not his preference,” Konoha explained slowly, as if it were not his tale to tell and Akaashi considered the news thoughtfully. 

“I was...unaware. I suppose I haven’t always been most attentive to the house staff. My apologies. It is rather embarrassing to have not known something so seemingly monumental.” 

Konoha waved his hand dismissively, almost knocking into the tea kettle clumsily. The gesture betrayed the nerves that were lying beneath the surface. Akaashi wondered what Konoha appeared to be so nervous about. Konoha’s eyes didn’t indicate anything specifically, no fixation upon anything other than the person in front of him. Contemplatively, Akaashi finished his first cup of tea, immediately to have it filled by Konoha’s attentiveness the second it hit the tabletop. 

“I have found the condition of which we spoke yesterday in regards to Bokuto,” Akaashi began, “It is a condition known as _Poliosis,_ of which pigmentation in hair or skin is absent. It usually forms in small patches, although with Bokuto it appears to have consumed almost the entirety of his hair and eyebrows. Even upon closer look today, I noticed it also affects some of his eyelashes.” 

“Hmm, well, I’m not quite sure he would be Bokuto without it,” Konoha mused with a sly smile, “I don’t think I could imagine Bokuto with the natural black hair. He’s too eccentric for it. Doesn’t suit him.” 

Akaashi laughed softly. The sound made Konoha perk up and smile most genuinely. 

“I suppose that is true.” 

Akaashi peered back through the window. Light had faded from the sky, leaving only the smattering of stars and moonlight casting through the window. It was later than most of their evening tea sessions had gone, but Akaashi was contented with the late hour if it entailed learning more of the staff. He still felt a bit blindsided to hear about Komi, and was left curious to what other details of his house staff he wasn’t currently privy to. 

Akaashi was sure Konoha would answer anything he asked of him promptly and truthfully, so there was little rush to pry. 

It was pleasant to relax. The day had been unusually stressful, with Bokuto’s rapt attention focused upon his back all morning while he trained the foal, and the unruliness the gelding had shown on his ride subsequently granting him more exhaustion than most days. He was grateful for Konoha’s company, as slight as it may be. 

Akaashi found his mind wondering the details of the news he had just learned from his assistant. Sarukui had been amongst his house staff nearly as long as Konoha, always a dutiful worker with a positive smile and pleasant character. Komi had only joined the estate staff within the last year, but proved just as hardworking with a bright smile and radiating kind energy. The two seemed to bond instantaneously with playful banter and endearing pranks. It seemed rather fitting for them to court. 

“I think Sarukui and Komi will do well for each other,” Akaashi hummed finally. 

Konoha smiled, it was soft and sincere, a rare sight to be seen on the blond. 

“I am inclined to agree,” a quiet moment passed between them before he continued, clearing his throat, “We have received an invitation for you to attend a banquet with Sakusa at his estate this upcoming Saturday, if you are not otherwise engaged.” 

Sakusa, a wealthy gentleman with a sizable estate even more magnificent than the Akaashi estate, had been paying him a rather fair amount of visits as of late. Although Akaashi did not generally mind the man’s company, he desired more variety in his company at times. He craved the society of someone a bit more cheerful and refreshing in nature. Agreeable or lighthearted were not terms generally used to describe the character of Sakusa. 

“I will not be in attendance,” Akaashi answered calmly, noting the wide-eyed look from Konoha across the circular table, “Please, call upon Sugawara tomorrow morning. I would much enjoy his company and to show him my new foal. He always enjoys seeing the new animals each year.” 

“Of course,” Konoha confirmed, “I think the man rather embodies the epitome of all that is the season of spring, honestly.” 

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Akaashi sighed happily, “I think that is why he is so refreshing, Konoha.” 

*** 

Sugawara cantered up the hill of the estate, coming into view with the reverberating clop of metal horseshoes on stone to announce his approach. Akaashi watched him draw near from the window of the estate, a soft smile curving his lips. Sugawara was one of his most treasured friends, and with all of the recent attentions from Sakusa and training the new foal, it had been too long since they had last visited. He watched Sarukui help Sugawara dismount and take the horse to the stables for general care. Downstairs, he could hear Yukie answer the door, and soon enough Konoha was knocking upon the study door with an excitable and sunny Sugawara beside him. 

Sugawara Koushi radiates more warmth with a single cell of his being than the average person would throughout the entirety of their body. His smile brightens up and disperses any emotional storm clouds, and the devious nature hiding behind the glint of those chocolate eyes was easily Akaashi’s most favorite trait. For someone so beautiful and radiant, Sugawara could be one of the most cunning and mischievous, although always in good taste, and Akaashi wouldn’t have his friend any other way. 

In a way, Sugawara reminded him of Konoha, just a bit more...friendly. Where Konoha rarely emitted a smile that wasn’t a narrow eyed smirk, Sugawara’s smile never seemed to stop beaming. 

“Akaashi!” Sugawara smiled as effortlessly as ever, “I hope you’ve been well? It’s been far too long! I have so much to tell you!” 

“And I you, Suga. I’m glad to see you appear to be quite well.” 

“Very well! The most well within a radius of at least a hundred miles, I bet!” 

Akaashi smiled. It was hard not to when in the same room as Sugawara. The man pulled his coat from his shoulders and handed it to Konoha to hang up, stretching comfortably and taking a seat across from Akaashi where Konoha would normally sit for their evening tea. 

“So pray tell, what has you the most happy of those within at least a hundred miles?” Akaashi asked, bemused at the notion. 

“Sawamura Daichi!” Suga exclaimed happily, “He made me dinner just this ereyesterday and it was the most extravagant event!” 

“Sawamura is your chef. He always makes your supper, Suga.” 

Sugawara pouted cutely, but there was still a playful smile behind it. 

“Akaashi, I wouldn’t expect you to understand. You’ve never flirted a day in your life! I’m not sure you’ve ever been privy to another human being. Although, I did hear from Konoha that the mighty prominent Sakusa has been entertaining you quite frequently as of late? That’s pretty exciting. He’s not known to be the most personable, but he is deceitfully attractive.” 

Akaashi could feel the teasing behind it, those eyes half lidded and sly. He sighed. Sugawara was not exactly wrong, but that does not mean Akaashi was gaining any pleasure talking on the subject. He had never been fond of his private affairs being passed around similar to that of spices at the dinner table. 

“Sakusa has been visiting me often,” Akaashi admitted, muttering, “More than twice a fortnight, in fact.” 

“More than twice a fortnight?! What activities do you engage in together? He hardly seems sociable when I have seen him.” 

Akaashi blinked. 

“Sakusa can be quite favorable and gentleman like, at least in my experience.” 

Sugawara erupted in laughter, loud and uninhibited. For a brief moment, Akaashi pondered why he had craved the man’s company at all. He should have known better. 

“Oh, Akaashi, I feel like that’s an experience only you’ve been privy to. I don’t think I’ve heard anyone agree with that sentiment, save his personal assistant.” 

“Komori is quite fond of Sakusa,” Akaashi smiled at the thought, “I think he idolizes him a bit. Although, he also does well to keep Sakusa a tad more tactful in the presence of more humble society. Sakusa and I don’t engage in much upon his visits, usually just tea in the parlor or here in the study, and some polite conversation.” 

“I have a hard time imagining it, quite frankly. Sakusa has always been distant and unfavorable in my experience with him. But of course, he wasn’t trying to court me~” Suga winked with a soft chuckle. 

Akaashi sighed, eager to change the subject. 

“Would you like to see my new foal? He is my most treasured yet.” 

“You say that every year, Akaashi, but I would absolutely adore to meet this year’s lot! Perhaps a leisure ride around your estate? You have the most stunning part of the river on your grounds and you know I love to travel upon its riverbed.” 

“Of course. I’ll have Bokuto ready horses for us while we visit.” 

“Bokuto?” Suga titled his head cutely, much akin to that of an inquiring dog. 

“My new stablehand. He’s a bit eccentric, but a very diligent worker,” Akaashi explained as he stood from the table. 

Akaashi led Sugawara to the stables with Konoha at his side. They walked along the stone pathway, pausing briefly for Suga to admire and compliment the work of the gardener when they passed the bright azalea bushes. In his peripherals, Akaashi could see Konoha’s expression contort, his mouth tightening and nose scrunching slightly, particularly when they neared the stables. Konoha seemed to have something to say, but held his tongue in the assembled company of others. 

Akaashi was appreciative of his manners among guests. 

Bokuto’s voice carried impressively as they neared the stables, his laugh ringing through the air. They heard a crash and some loud rustling, and Konoha sighed loudly. Sugawara giggled softly with a quirked eyebrow. There was a gleam in his eye that felt a little unsettling, mischievous. A little ruckus and excitement would never ruffle Suga’s feathers. In fact, he seemed quite enthralled by it. 

Perhaps too late, Akaashi wondered if introducing Sugawara to Bokuto would be a mistake. 

Upon entering the stables, Akaashi was nearly toppled over when Bokuto came whipping around the corner, his face bright, flushed, and startled when he realized who he had run into. 

“Akaashi!” Bokuto vibrated with excitement, his smile faltering only slightly in curiosity when his gaze flickered to Sugawara, “Hello!” 

“Bokuto, this is Sugawara Koushi, a very close friend of mine. We would like to take a leisure ride, if you would be so kind as to prepare two horses for us.” 

Suga waved and chirped a greeting, only holding Bokuto’s attention but for a second before his focus fixated back to Akaashi. Konoha rolled his eyes animatedly. 

“Of course! Do you have a preference on which horse, Akaashi?” 

“I think this ride my preference is for Satou, the white mare. Thank you, Bokuto.” 

“And for sir Sugawara?” 

“Please, just Suga is fine,” Sugawara corrected politely. 

“Do you have a preference, Suga?” Akaashi inquired, noticing the sharp glances Suga was giving between Akaashi and Bokuto, and choosing promptly to ignore it. 

“I don’t know your mounts enough to have a preference quite yet,” he smiled widely. 

Akaashi most certainly did not miss the implied subtext in the unappealing waggle of Suga’s eyebrows. 

He feared for when they were alone again. He could see the scheming behind those hazelnut brown eyes, flickering back and forth with uninhibited excitement. With a polite nod, Akaashi left Bokuto to gather the horses and tack. Konoha muttered something similar to that of needing to prepare supper with Yukie and took his leave with a slight bow. Truthfully, Akaashi was unsure why Konoha had accompanied Sugawara and himself to the stables, though he would never disagree with the man’s company. 

Akaashi led Sugawara to the pasture to find the foal. 

As soon as Sugawara deemed Bokuto out of earshot, words poured out of his mouth like waterfall of pure childish exhilaration. Akaashi couldn’t shake the thought that Sugawara reminded him of a teenager at times. He was nudging Akaashi while he spoke, wrapping his arm around Akaashi’s shoulders to hunch them together. It made walking particularly difficult. 

“Akaashi, that stablehand _really_ fancies you! Have you let him entertain you? He’s so fit! You should definitely let him entertain you for _at least_ an evening!” 

Akaashi spent enough time around Suga to recognize that the type of entertainment he spoke of was not the same calming tea and conversation he engaged in with Konoha each evening. 

“It’s a wonder anyone thinks you proper gentleman,” Akaashi deadpanned. 

Sugawara laughed and slapped him on the back roughly. It reminded him a bit of Bokuto in the way it rang through the air and caught the attention of anyone nearby. Briefly, Akaashi entertained the thought of how he hoped Bokuto wouldn’t slap his back in the same manner. With the strength the stablehand possessed, it would likely slap him face down into the dirt. 

Bokuto would probably have kept on laughing too, just as Sugawara did when Akaashi stumbled gracelessly and nearly toppled over if not for the grasp Suga had on his shoulders. 

“I can be a right proper gentleman when it matters! I just don’t feel so inclined to be so around you, since I know you cherish me more at my most natural, Akaashi,” they finally reached the foal in the pasture, beneath Akaashi’s favorite pear tree, “And this is your new foal, I bet! He’s quite sweet! What is his name?” 

“I named him Fukuro,” Akaashi explained, happy to have Suga’s eager attention turned to the foal nuzzling his palm, “He has the colors of an owl.” 

“He surely does,” Suga admired, scratching the horse’s cheeks affectionately, “You know who else resembles an owl?” 

Akaashi could see Bokuto approaching them with the two horses in tow, his smile beaming. 

“Suga-” 

Bokuto was definitely within earshot now. How was he moving so quickly on such uneven ground in the pasture? Akaashi couldn’t help the internal panic that settled sourly in his stomach. He found himself fiddling with his fingers and chewing his lip. It was silly, he shouldn’t feel so embarrassed by it, because it’s not as if isn’t true, but he could hear Bokuto’s rhythmic footsteps in the grass and every second felt like eternity. 

“That dashing new stablehand! Bokuto looks just like an owl! And I _know_ how much you _love_ owls, Akaashi~” Suga laughed teasingly, ignorant of Bokuto approaching. 

It was too late. Akaashi could feel Bokuto’s radiating presence even more than he could see it as he approached with a smile gaping enough to consume the entire mountain that was Akaashi’s embarrassment. His whole being seemed to inflate with excitement, like a balloon about to burst. He could hear the sharp intake of breath before- 

“I love owls too, Akaashi!!!” Bokuto shouted excitedly, effectively spooking both Fukuro and Suga, although the two mares in Bokuto’s grasp remained miraculously unaffected. Perhaps like Akaashi, they had seen it coming. 

Sugawara yelped in shock, spinning around to face Bokuto. Fukuro was gone, galloping away from the noise to somewhere less abrasive. Akaashi couldn’t resist the small smirk. Suga deserved it for teasing him so. After all, it was not as if Akaashi had not tried to speak up. Perhaps it was petty, but Akaashi reveled in the small victories. 

Bokuto seemed unfazed by Suga’s upset, handing the reins to Akaashi and Suga with a broad smile. Suga took the reins with a puzzled glance towards Akaashi. He tried to laugh at Suga’s bewildered stare. No doubtedly he was wondering on how such a loud person snuck upon him so successfully, and with two horses! 

“Owls really are the best, huh? I’m really happy you love owls too, Akaashi!” 

“Of course, Bokuto. Owls are beautiful. Thank you for preparing the horses.” 

Akaashi was surprised how stable his voice sounded despite the heat in his cheeks and racing heartbeat. 

“Anything for you, Akaashi!” Bokuto chirped excitedly, “Have a pleasurable ride!” 

Suga and Akaashi mounted the horses, but before they could leave, Suga leaned over with a sly smile. 

“Say, Akaashi, what’s Bokuto’s given name?” 

Akaashi blinked stoically and paused for a moment. 

“Koutarou,” he answered simply. 

Suga didn’t miss the flush of red on Bokuto’s cheeks and ears, and was sure to nod to Akaashi to ensure he saw it too. It was the first time Akaashi said Bokuto’s given name, and Bokuto certainly noticed. 

“I’ve seen cherries with more skin tone than Bokuto’s face, Akaashi,” Suga stated as they departed across the pasture with a wave to Bokuto, “You’d think he had never heard someone say his name before.” 

Akaashi hummed thoughtfully, “Well, it is my first time saying it, and I haven’t heard anyone else call him Koutarou.” 

“Well, that certainly explains it then!” Suga laughed cheerfully, clicking his tongue to cue the mare into a trot. 

“You know,” Suga purred, “If one were to give him a nickname, it would be Kou, just like Daichi calls me.” 

“I suppose so,” Akaashi considered the idea, and how Bokuto would flush if one were to call him that. Surely, the stablehand’s head would explode from the blood pressure. 

They rode in comfortable silence, enjoying the warm spring breeze and plush grass beneath the horses’ hooves. Akaashi wasn’t blind, he knew that Bokuto had grown rather fond of him since his arrival. It was rather hard not to notice the always apparent flush of cheeks and eager attention from the stablehand. 

However, Akaashi was rather comfortable with such focused attentions upon himself. He had grown with Konoha after all, who seemed to live to attend to Akaashi’s wishes before Akaashi ever voiced them. 

Akaashi also wasn’t blind to his own curiosity of Bokuto, either. He often found himself pondering Bokuto’s mysterious past, and how little he finds he actually knows about the stablehand. Upon introspection, Akaashi recognizes that Bokuto may appear rather simple, but the questions Akaashi finds himself imploring of his thoughts at night often are not so. Surely, he is more multifaceted than he appears on the surface. 

His father had mentioned that Bokuto had been recommended to them as a laborer, but any information beyond his work ethic was for Akaashi to unearth of his own volition. 

Truthfully, Akaashi did not mind. He enjoyed a good mystery like anyone else. 

“Daichi made me my most favorite food and served me breakfast in bed,” Suga stated suddenly, drawing Akashi from his thoughts. 

There wasn’t an audible response, but Suga knew Akaashi was listening. Akaashi always listened. 

“It is a little peculiar at times, the social difference. Our courting has not been formally announced, and at times guests will treat him so...dismissively. As if Daichi is so below them! My own family is within those who do so. I think my parents would be rather cross to find me so enraptured by a house staff. Especially if we were to ever be engaged I…” Suga paused, and Akaashi watched him carefully as he spoke, “My parents have been attempting to engage me with Shimizu, and although she is quite entrancing, I just cannot pull my interest from Daichi.” 

Suga scratched the back of his head nervously. Even then, his smile never faded completely, only darkened to something mirthless and bitter. It was not the bright refreshing smile that radiated from him, and Akaashi mourned its loss. 

“Limitations from social class always seemed a rather bit antiquated an idea to me,” Akaashi admitted quietly, “If Daichi is who brings you happiness and secures good quality of life, that would be my choice for you. Your parents would be selfish to try to convince you otherwise.” 

“That would make me selfish for disregarding familial wishes for personal happiness, would it not?” 

“Suga, you’re always so selfless, I think you could find it within yourself to be selfish just this once,” Akaashi smiled, taking comfort in Suga’s laugh, no matter how dry it felt. 

“I suppose, I suppose.” 

As sun filtered from the sky, they traveled back towards the stable. Sugawara appeared to be in better spirits, humming as they trotted through the grassy pasture up the hill and across the way to the pasture’s gate. Bokuto waved to them from inside the gate, his whole body swaying with the gesture. 

“Bokuto sure is a whirlwind, isn’t he?” Suga chuckled softly. 

“Certainly the most tireless person I have yet to meet,” Akaashi replied stoically. 

Suga hummed thoughtfully, tapping his bottom lip with his index finger and holding the reins with his left hand. He turned to Akaashi with a tilt of his head. 

“I think you suit each other.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will likely be posting updates every Sunday!  
> And hopefully with artwork to accompany it, if I can squeeze it in~ 
> 
> Please let me know what you think! <3  
> Comments and kudos always appreciated!  
>  ** Next Time:   
> **  
>  -Bokuto and Konoha spend some quality time together  
> -Everyone learns a little more about each other  
> whether they like it or not~ 


	3. Etiquette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course it was Konoha. Who else would have been in his quarters this early unannounced and uninvited?

[Chapter 3: Etiquette] 

Upon daybreak, Akaashi awoke to the sound of someone in his bedroom. Akaashi was not fond of mornings, always of the habit of avoiding sleep until the late hours of the night in lieu of reading. For a moment, he considered that the rustling he had heard only moments ago was only due to his foggy, sleep-ridden mind. He could only hope that he had imagined the disturbance. 

The rustling sounded again, seemingly closer. Perhaps a bit petulantly, Akaashi scrunched his eyes shut and resisted groaning his displeasure at being disturbed. He drew the blankets closer, as if to save himself from possible social interaction at the early hour. 

Akaashi felt the mattress dip behind him heavily with the obvious mass of another person, a hand perhaps, as the intruder leaned their weight on one hand to reach forward. There was the most gentle of nudges to his shoulder, the contact lingering perhaps a little too long, _familiar,_ and Akaashi stirred from his groggy subpar consciousness to face the narrow brown eyes of Konoha. 

Of course it was Konoha. Who else would have been in his quarters this early unannounced and uninvited? 

“Yes, Konoha?” Akaashi inquired with a voice hoarse from sleep. 

“Your hair looks like an owl nested in it.” 

It took all of Akaashi’s composure not to scowl, fighting to keep his expression neutral and controlled. He felt his eyebrow twitch without his permission. He was certain Konoha caught sight of it, no matter how slight it had been. 

“Did you stir me awake for a reason? Or only to tease at my appearance in my private bedroom?” 

“I brought you some tea,” Konoha offered in an attempt at compensation. 

Konoha leaned back to gesture at the tray on Akaashi’s nightstand. Akaashi hadn’t realized how close Konoha had been to him until the weight on the bed was gone and Konoha gave him space one again. How had he failed to notice Konoha had been only inches from his face? They had always had a close friendship, but that felt a little foreign, a little too intimate. Akaashi pushed the thought from his mind and sat up begrudgingly. 

For a moment, Akaashi pondered that the rustling he had heard earlier had evidently been the shuffling and clinking of the items on the tray while Konoha brought them in the bedroom. 

Konoha handed him the cup of black tea and Akaashi waited for an explanation. The clock on the wall told him it was only slightly past five in the morning, much too early for his tastes. 

“Your father sent a courier. He arrived this morning with news that your parents will be out for another month at minimum. There was also this package for you,” Konoha pulled a small brown paper package tied with baling twine from his pocket, “The courier said it was imperative you receive it as soon as possible. I didn’t want to wake you but he was quite adamant on the matter.” 

Akaashi rolled the small package in his hands, inspecting it carefully. It was surprisingly heavy for its small size. Konoha watched him open the package with delicate hands, setting the twine and paper beside him on the duvet. Inside of the box was a small wooden owl, stoic-faced, smooth, and cool the touch. The owl was well shaped and polished. It looked to be carved from snakewood, judging by the unique patterning and dense weight. Akaashi frowned. 

“Evidently, they thought it imperative to give a compensation gift and mark it as urgent,” he sighed exasperatedly. 

Konoha hummed in agreement while he tidied up the wrappings to dispose of them properly. 

“Thank you, Konoha,” Akaashi sipped his tea, “I suppose since I am now awake, I’ll greet the day as if it were not such an ungodly hour.” 

“Oh! Breakfast will likely be late this morning, as Yukie has taken to her bed. A cold, it seems. Nothing serious, but I’ll be cooking alone this morning so it may take some extra time, unfortunately.” 

So far, this day wasn’t starting in the most pleasurable of manners. Akaashi considered just rolling back under the covers and skipping the rest of the day. Fukuro needed training, though, and the weather looked to be sunny and bright. 

“Perhaps inquire upon one of the other housestaff to see if someone can assist you,” Akaashi replied. 

It was no secret that Akaashi’s weakness was food, and a lot of it. If anything could salvage this morning, it would be a delicious breakfast. Akaashi was certain of that much. 

“You remember last time Sarukui assisted with breakfast.” 

It wasn’t a question. It was a clear definitive statement. 

“Of course I remember.” 

“We were ill for nearly two days! The whole house was out of commission.” 

“There _are_ other house staff, Konoha,” Akaashi reminded cooly, although the bitter smile betrayed his amusement, “Inquire upon Komi or Bokuto to assist you.” 

Akaashi nearly chokes on his tea, clearing his throat softly with a quirk of his eyebrow at the sour twist of expression and paling of Konoha’s face. His whole face warped into a grimace before he schooled it back into cold deadpan. It had disappeared as quickly as it had come. There was obviously something that flickered through Konoha’s thoughts that he thought better not to express outwardly. 

Akaashi was unsure if he was thankful for his restraint or not. 

“I sincerely doubt Bokuto can cook, and Komi is not available this morning,” Konoha stated. 

Akaashi wondered if Konoha’s taut expression had anything to do with Komi being unavailable. 

“Bokuto told me he can cook,” Suzumeda interjected loudly with a musical tone from just beyond the closed door. She sounded optimistic and conniving. 

Apparently Akaashi was not the only one who had noticed Konoha’s distaste for the stablehand. 

“Go ask Bokuto to assist you,” Akaashi encouraged, setting his tea upon the tray and standing to dress for the day with a stretch. 

With a sigh, Konoha conceded and left to retrieve Bokuto from the stables. 

*** 

Konoha peeked into the stable’s tack room, begrudgingly searching for Bokuto. At first, he had sought out Komi for assistance with breakfast when he learned of Yukie’s illness, but after finding Sarukui and Komi in a rather compromising position, he would rather douse his eyes with lye rather than interrupt them again. 

Spending the morning working with Bokuto would be preferable to that. 

And who knows? Perhaps the stablehand really could be of use in the kitchen. 

As always, Konoha could hear Bokuto before he saw him. A musical hum, a tune that Konoha had heard before but couldn’t quite place, and the metal scrape of pitchfork against the stone floor of the hay storage. The sound grated on his nerves. He stood behind Bokuto, watching him fork hay into a wheelbarrow for the horses. 

“Bokuto,” he greeted blandly, “Suzumeda said you can cook.” 

Bokuto straightened to look at him with a stunned expression for a moment, obviously confused at the sudden appearance of Konoha. Konoha never came to the stables without Akaashi, so he couldn’t blame Bokuto for being confuddled about it. That didn’t mean that the ever-searching eyes looking for Akaashi didn’t rub him the wrong way. He was certain Bokuto had never even heard the word ‘subtlety’ before. 

When it seemed he accepted that Akaashi was not accompanying them, Bokuto rested the pitchfork against the wall and scratched at his hair awkwardly. 

“Ah, yeah. I mean, where I’m from we didn’t really have much a choice. Why?” Bokuto stared at him for a moment, “Good morning, by the way.” 

Konoha recognized the attempt at polite friendliness from Bokuto but didn’t return the sentiment. 

“Yukie has taken to bed ill this morning, and Akaashi requested I ask you to assist me with breakfast, if you are available.” 

“Akaashi asked me to help?!” Konoha winced at the sheer volume of Bokuto’s excitement, “Yes! Yes, let me just clean up and I’ll meet you in the kitchen? Oh! I haven’t gotten to cook in so long, I’m so excited!! And this kitchen is so much fancier than any I have ever been in!” 

Konoha hummed an affirmative and drawled, “Oookay. Thanks, Bokuto.” 

Without wasting another moment, Konoha turned to leave, ignoring the energetic shuffles and what sounded like Bokuto tripping over the pitchfork he himself had just placed against the wall to fall on the floor. There was a loud metal and wooden clamoring against stone, and a solid thump. He heard the large man yelp like a dog and snickered. 

Bokuto may be a bit of a simple man, but he could be entertaining at times. 

*** 

The stone floor _hurt._ Not enough to stop Bokuto from rushing to deposit the hay into the bed of the last stall, but certainly enough leave his shoulder sore and the joint feeling creaky. Nothing could curb his excitement. He was enthralled to work in the kitchen, to prepare food for Akaashi. Kitchens were places full of fond memories for Bokuto, something he didn’t have a lot of. Maybe if he was lucky, he would get to sit at the table and eat with Akaashi, too! 

Bokuto’s heart thrummed at the thought, energy pulsing just below the surface of his skin, leaving him feeling like he could run a marathon in seconds flat. For Akaashi, of course. 

Bokuto was an excellent cook. His previous housemates had always complimented his cooking and the warmth of that praise made him feel giddy. He couldn’t wait to show off to Akaashi how good his cooking skills were! He just knew that Akaashi was going to love his cooking. He was going to make sure of it, with or without Konoha’s salt. 

Konoha was working away on the cutting board when Bokuto entered the kitchen, chopping spinach into fine pieces with cautious focus. On the counters were a range of ingredients for a western styled breakfast such as eggs, potatoes, an assortment of vegetables, and loaves of bread, as well as instruments to cook with. Bokuto wasn’t sure if Konoha normally pulled everything out prior to starting or if he did so this time purely to save Bokuto time searching cabinets. Either way, he was happy. 

“Akaashi requested a western styled breakfast,” Konoha mumbled, “If you’d like to help with preparation, you can start with the eggs.” 

His tone was quiet and emotionless, sounding more bored than anything else. It felt more like he was making a business proposal to a bunch of porcupines who had no interest in the stock market than making a delicious breakfast with Bokuto. Bokuto pouted briefly, but chose to not take offense to it. 

“Sure! Yamamoto always said I made some of the best eggs! How does Akaashi like his eggs?” 

Bokuto was excited at learning more about how Akaashi likes his food, even if it seemed like something minor. If he could do anything to make Akaashi happy, he would be ecstatic to do so. Konoha seemed to share the same sentiment as he rattled off the specificities of Akaashi’s tastes in food, from how he liked his eggs, to how he liked his breakfast tea with just a single cube of sugar and the smallest dabble of cream, and how he preferred his rolls warmed in the oven before serving. 

They worked in tolerable silence after awhile, Bokuto cracking eggs into a bowl and adding other ingredients as Konoha chopped them. Bokuto thought they were working pretty well as a team, even if Konoha had stopped talking to him after a little while. In between the rhythmic chops of the knife, Bokuto thought he heard a sniffle. 

Bokuto paused and listened closely. It happened again. 

It was definitely a sniffle. 

A slow grin crept on his face and he peered around Konoha’s shoulder. He was hit with the telltale smell of freshly cut onions, and couldn’t help a laugh. 

“Are you crying?” He asked teasingly, nudging Konoha with his elbow. 

Konoha shot him a glare over his shoulder. It was noticeably less intimidating with wet eyes and an unattractively loud sniffle. With how narrow Konoha’s eyes normally are, they looked closed as he scrunched up his eyes. Bokuto wondered how he managed to see like that as Konoha continued to angrily chop the onion with a sardonic huff. 

It didn’t seem very safe. 

“Ya know, if you don’t wanna cry about the onion deaths, it works best to extend out your arms so your face isn’t above the fumes and work fast,” Bokuto advised with a smirk, “Here, let me do it. Switch with me ‘cause you look like you can’t see and I don’t think Akaashi wants blood for breakfast.” 

“And if he did?” 

“Uh,” the question caught Bokuto off-guard, “Then I guess we... better get on it? I mean… that’s a really weird question to ask, Konoha.” 

Konoha hummed a bitter sound and continued cutting the onion stubbornly. It left Bokuto feeling confused and uneasy. He definitely missed something. Times like these made him wish he was as perceptive as Akaashi. Bokuto wished he knew what he had done during his short time here to offend Konoha. When he had asked Sarukui before, he hadn’t an answer for him either. 

He was afraid to ask the blond himself. 

While he had thought his relationship with Konoha was getting better since they had felt so in tandem during breakfast preparations, apparently Konoha hadn’t quite reached that conclusion. Or perhaps, whatever had Bokuto in poor favor for the blond was too potent an idea to be washed away with only one instance of bonding. The thought left a sour taste in Bokuto’s mouth. He wanted to be on friendly accordance with Konoha, if not for his own sake, then for Akaashi’s. 

With a sharp inhale, Bokuto decided if he was going to try to solve this problem, he was going to have to just ask. Obviously, Konoha wasn’t going to do it. 

“Do you hate me?” 

Konoha froze for a moment, and Bokuto could see tension in his shoulders. He relaxed visibly with a sigh. 

“No.” 

“Did I do something wrong? I’m really sorry if I did! I didn’t mean to! Whatever it was, I’m sorry!” 

“Bokuto-” 

“I just really want us to get along and I don’t understand what I did wrong and I know I’m not always the brightest and a lot of social etiquette is lost on me but-” 

_“Bokuto-”_

Konoha slapped the knife onto the counter and spun to grab Bokuto’s face with his hands. Bokuto stared at him, as if he had a choice to do otherwise, his cheeks squished between Konoha’s palms. 

“Stop,” he demanded sharply, “I do not hate you. Don’t get swept up like that,” Konoha sighed, dropping his hands from Bokuto’s face and leaning his hips against the kitchen counter. 

“Akaashi is quite important to me, is all.” Konoha mumbled. Bokuto almost didn’t hear it. 

“Akaashi is super important to me too,” Bokuto whispered, although the wasn’t exactly sure why he felt it imperative to whisper. 

“Yes, I can see that. I think everyone can, Bokuto,” Konoha laughed bitterly, smoothing the fabric of his apron with his hands. 

“Then why do you hate me? I don’t understand.” 

“I can see that too,” Konoha smiled. 

It felt bittersweet, but the smile was without malice or taunt. 

“Akaashi seems to take interest in you and your affairs,” Konoha said quietly, but he could feel Bokuto’s whole being seem to inflate in bright happiness. He continued before Bokuto could exclaim anything at the admission, “I don’t know anything about you. Akaashi doesn’t know anything about you. You don’t know anything about Akaashi. Where did you come from? Why do you have no connections or reputation to speak of aside from the one person who recommended you to the masters? Who’s the Yamamoto character you mentioned briefly before? Something just feels really off about you and I cannot place my finger upon it.” 

“Oh.” 

Bokuto was without words, unsure of where to begin. He felt a tad overwhelmed. 

“Oh?” Konoha laughed, “Is that all?” 

“Yamamoto is my old housemate,” Bokuto responded dumbly, the words tumbling from his mouth, “I lived in um... a house but it wasn’t like this one, it was small, and I lived with Yamamoto, Fukunaga, and Kuroo. They’re really good people, but some don’t think so.” 

His voice was uncharacteristically small and quiet. Konoha watched him closely, how he fidgeted his fingers against the cotton of his shirt and leaned his weight back and forth from foot to foot. Bokuto was obviously discomforted, and Konoha felt irked by how deflated and out of spirits the stablehand appeared. It was unpleasant, and as much as Konoha felt on edge around the Bokuto, he didn’t necessarily dislike him. 

With a sigh, Konoha decided not to press further. It was obvious that prying into Bokuto’s past personal affairs would not be a light conversation, and Akaashi was still waiting for his breakfast after all. 

It certainly was not that Konoha did not possess more inquires for Bokuto. Konoha still had many more questions, if not more now than before, but the obvious willingness Bokuto had to share in order to gain Konoha’s trust was comforting. Konoha considered himself a fair judge of character, and while he had his suspicions, they were based entirely upon a lack of information instead of a presentation of information. 

Bokuto didn’t have anything incriminating upon his society, but he did not have anything to quell suspicions of incriminations either. 

The uncertainty of Bokuto’s character is what Konoha felt most uneasy about. 

“I’m sure your acquaintances are fine people,” Konoha comforted Bokuto’s obvious discomfort with a pat on his shoulder, “For now, let’s focus on our mutual goals and finish breakfast for Akaashi.” 

Bokuto nodded, and the encounter faded as they worked quietly. Well, quietly for a few minutes, as it appeared that complacent silence was not within Bokuto’s repertoire. 

“What do the masters do? I haven’t seen Akaashi’s family since the day of my hiring.” Bokuto asked suddenly. 

Konoha turned to him, bewildered at the notion that Bokuto had accepted the employment without even the slightest idea of what they engaged in for monetary success. 

“Akaashi’s father engages in business regarding the manufacturing and sale of the most prestiged carriages,” Konoha answered, “And they are most often out for business. At times, I hardly recall what they look like, if Akaashi Keiji were not so similar in appearance to his father.” 

“So ‘Kaashi spends most of his time alone? Doesn’t he get lonely?” 

Konoha’s heart dropped at the inclination. He knew Akaashi had felt moments of monumental loneliness in the past, and remembrance of those occurrences were unfavorable. 

“I have been with Akaashi for as long as I can remember,” Konoha said simply, “In times that Akaashi sought the company of others, we would entertain one another. As children, we often played with the animals for company. Akaashi always did prefer the company of animals to the society of people, as I believe social interaction and societal implications of behavior tend to tire him out.” 

“I can relate. Animals really are the best.” 

“I don’t doubt that,” Konoha hummed. 

“But you don’t like horses.” 

It was stated as such a solid fact, Konoha almost sliced his finger instead of the tomato on the cutting board. 

_“What?”_

“Sarukui and Komi said you don’t like horses,” Bokuto repeated, “Akaashi confirmed it too.” 

“Well, horses are just much larger than I’m comfortable with,” Konoha could feel his cheeks flush with heat at the admission, “I have a self preservation instinct, you know.” 

Bokuto’s laugh consumed the kitchen space, and Konoha knew Akaashi would be able to hear it upstairs. He couldn’t help but smile. Bokuto really had the most contagious laugh. 

*** 

Despite Bokuto assisting Konoha in the kitchen, breakfast was nearly an hour later than anticipated. Akaashi was not particularly surprised, disappointed perhaps, but not surprised, as he had coupled the two regardless of Konoha’s known distaste for the stablehand. So, he took his time slipping on garments, brushing out the sleep stiffened curls of his hair, and enjoying the lovely sky out of his bedroom window. As much as he disliked being awoken so early, he had to admit the calm of the morning had its own appeal. 

However, the small wooden owl seeped into his thoughts frequently. It sat upon his nightstand where he left it when Konoha departed earlier. His eyes would often flitter back to it, inspecting the speckled patterns in the wood and the apathetic, stoic gaze carved into the owl. 

It was impersonal, a formality more than a gift of true sincerity, and Akaashi found himself considering that the impassive cold gaze from the carving was uncomfortably fitting of his relationship to his parental figures. Cold, polite, formal, _distant._

It was a rather pretty figurine all the same, well crafted and obviously expensive, given the type of wood it was created by. Destitute parental associations aside, it was a lovely owl figurine and he was going to keep it in his study with the other gifts his father had sent in apology over the last decade. 

Akaashi wandered leisurely to his study with the owl figurine in hand. On the top of one of the high wooden bookshelves, there was a littering of owl gifts of all shapes and sizes, ranging from pocket watches to bookends and now the small wooden figurine. He admired the owl decorations with a sigh. At least they were aesthetically pleasing. 

When he heard the telltale ringing laugh from Bokuto in the kitchen downstairs, Akaashi descended the staircase in interest. 

He was quite surprised to see that Konoha was very patiently instructing Bokuto on how to set the utensils upon the table _with a smile._

Akaashi couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Evidently, something monumental had happened in the kitchen while they had prepared breakfast together. Konoha placed the plates, bowls, and utensils upon the table mat at one seat, and instructed Bokuto as he attempted to follow the example. Akaashi leaned against the doorframe of the dining room and watched. It was kind of cute how Bokuto would pout when Konoha would point out when he misplaced a fork or placed the soup spoon down instead of the standard spoon. 

Konoha was _smiling_ at _Bokuto._

It was endearing. Having the two of them work together this morning had worked out better than Akaashi had supposed it would. Konoha looked up from the table and locked eyes with Akaashi. He coughed a bit awkwardly, clearing his throat, and gestured to the now set table. 

“Breakfast will be out in just a moment.” 

“Good morning, Akaashi!” 

Akaashi nodded and took a seat at the table, giving Bokuto a smile. The man was a little louder than he was ready for this early in the morning, even if he had already been awake for over an hour. Bokuto blushed and the smile, hesitating for a moment with his eyes on Akaashi when Konoha called him back into the kitchen to bring the food to the table. 

Cute. It was cute. 

When the food is settled on the table, Akaashi invited them to eat with him. He’s never been one for forcing the house staff to eat after the masters of the house, as his parents and many other more traditional aristocrats insisted. If anything else, he rather enjoyed the company. 

If Bokuto’s blinding smile is anything to go by, Bokuto certainly enjoyed the company as well. They ate in relative silence, with soft clinking of silverware and the occasional instruction from Konoha to Bokuto. He was teaching him table etiquette. It made Akaashi smile as he sipped his tea. 

“Akaashi! You’ve been smilin’ a lot this mornin’! Are you having a good day so far?” Bokuto asked, his eyes eagerly searching Akaashi’s face for an answer. 

“Hmm, I am now, Bokuto,” Akaashi confirmed politely, remembering the owl figurine now adorning his shelf upstairs beside the rest, “Thank you.” 

Akaashi turned to Konoha. 

“And I trust that everything went well in the kitchen this morning? Were Bokuto’s kitchen skills up to par?” he teased lightly. 

“Better than Yukie, even,” Konoha laughed, and Akaashi found happiness in the sound, “but don’t tell her I uttered that.” 

“Of course,” Akaashi smiled, watching Bokuto drool over the praise. 

Breakfast was peaceful, quiet save for Bokuto’s occasional outbursts. Akaashi assured him that _yes, his cooking is immaculate, the eggs are perfect_ and _the tea is made exactly as he likes it._ Every piece of small praise seemed to light a fire within Bokuto, making his smile broader and his cheeks flush with every word. It was endearing. Bokuto was simple, easy to please. Akaashi even laughed at a ridiculous pun he made, despite it being mildly inappropriate for the breakfast table. 

And perhaps most monumental, Konoha seemed content with his company. 

When they parted for their separate activities for the day, Akaashi felt much better than he had prior to breakfast. Only part of that could be contributed to the food, the rest could be contributed to such genuine company. 

Akaashi set out to train the foal, strapping his riding boots on with practiced ease. Fukuro did well, following most of the cues Akaashi instructed, until a sudden loud noise disrupted them and Akaashi’s world went black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update!! <3   
> I am nearly done with chapter 4, then just gotta have my beta readers run through it   
> and it'll probably still be released on Sunday as was planned for this chapter so  
>  _Double update~_
> 
> I'm also working on a random one-shot about Bokuto's thighs so  
> Look forward to that I guess? 
> 
> Leave me feedback! I live off of it~


	4. Happens to the Best of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, he didn’t know what dying felt like, but he assumed it was something similar to this.

[Chapter 4: Happens to the Best of Us] 

It happened too quickly. 

Bokuto was crying. He was a sobbing, horrible mess of gasps and stifled wails, struggling to breathe as his vision waxed and waned from a lack of oxygen. His feet were moving but he wasn’t fully in control of them. He felt like he was dying. 

Komi took Fukuro’s lead rope from him. There was concern etched into Komi’s features, but Bokuto could only focus on Akaashi. It felt as if he had tunnel vision, his peripherals blackened and useless. Somewhere in his mind, he knew he was panicking, in a sort of trance-like suspension, but he felt powerless to it. 

Then, Sarukui and Konoha were there. Sarukui was pulling his face up to look at him. Calm, soothing breaths. Someone was petting his hair. It was both comforting and overstimulating, making his emotions dim but his body tremble. 

Suddenly, he was aware they were talking to him, as if someone slowly turned up the volume of the world around him from mute to deafening. 

“Bokuto! Bokuto, what happened?” _Konoha._

Konoha was asking him questions. Bokuto’s attention flickered from Sarukui’s face to Konoha. He was kneeling beside Akaashi in the grass. 

_Akaashi._

“You’re fine, Bokuto. Akaashi is fine. Help me take him to his room, okay? He’s awake now. He’s fine. He’s just...he’s heavier than he looks.” Sarukui was pulling him to his feet. 

Bokuto wasn’t aware he had fallen to his knees. 

Bokuto looked back down at Akaashi. He was obviously disoriented, asking the same questions again and again. But he was awake. He was awake and Bokuto felt like breathing was suddenly more manageable. 

Konoha brushed dirt and locks of hair from Akaashi’s face, and answered his questions, no matter how many times he asked them. Bokuto could see how soft and tender Konoha was when he touched him, like he was fragile and precious. 

Something about how calm Konoha seemed made him feel uneasy. 

Bokuto’s chest hurt, it burned and constricted, but he nodded when Sarukui asked him again if he would help him take Akaashi to his room in the manor. Anything for Akaashi, he would do anything to help Akaashi. It was his fault in the first place, he shouldn’t have… 

Together, Bokuto and Konoha helped Akaashi back to his feet. Bokuto didn’t have the awareness to register how it felt to have Akaashi lean on him. His mind wasn’t with him, the world a strange blur of sharp sensations and thoughts racing too fast to catch. 

Sarukui followed behind them as they walked Akaashi from the pasture through the stables and out to the stone pathway to the manor. Akaashi was mumbling, it was incoherent and nearly incomprehensible, but Bokuto could catch bits and pieces here and there. 

He heard him mumble Bokuto’s name, something about owls and colors and the word ‘solid’. 

Akaashi was obviously still disoriented. They probably shouldn’t have moved him so soon, but Bokuto was panicking and Konoha said they should get him back to his bed where he could be comfortable. Bokuto didn’t hear Konoha say it. He couldn’t remember Konoha saying it, but he knew he had said it at some point. 

By the time they managed to help Akaashi up the stairs, Bokuto was beginning to calm down. As every ounce of panic drained from him, his energy dropped tenfold. He felt exhausted, barely able to keep himself conscious as he helped Konoha lay Akaashi on his bed. Bokuto could see his hands trembling when he looked down at them. Konoha urged him to go downstairs and take a break, to get some water and rest his mind, but Bokuto couldn’t do it. 

He tried to breathe, focusing on the inhale and the exhale. Every breath that left him felt like both a release of tension and a vomit of his energy supply. His head still felt like it was spinning, but his body began to calm. He could feel Konoha watching him, not saying a word, just nearby in case Bokuto collapsed. 

Bokuto was exhausted. 

He kneeled by the side of the bed, persuading his breath into a steady rhythm and draping his torso across the blankets. Bokuto just needed to rest his eyes. Just for minute. Just for a moment...he needed to rest. 

*** 

Memories crawled back to Akaashi piece by piece. Konoha sat next his bed, talking him through it. When he asked if he had already asked that question, Konoha would just laugh softly. So, he assumed he had probably asked it quite a bit. Konoha was very patient with him. 

He really wanted to sleep, but Konoha insisted that he had to stay awake for just a little longer. Akaashi wasn’t sure how many times Konoha might have told him that, but he trusted Konoha to take care of him. Konoha always took care of him. He remembered that much. 

Akaashi also remembered that the heavy, beefy lump of person on his legs was Bokuto. He didn’t understand why Bokuto appeared to be sleeping on his calves, but Konoha seemed unconcerned with it, so Akaashi followed his lead. His whole body was too sore and stiff for him to worry much about anything else. For a few brief moments, he would feel ill, but the feeling would pass without incident, thankfully. 

The lightheaded and dizzy headache never seemed to pass completely, however, throbbing and permeating through his thoughts. 

The bin beside his bed was full of bloody gauze and Konoha would occasionally dab more blood from a wound on his temple. It was shallow, but head wounds bleed a lot; that’s what Konoha assured him. It was nothing severe. He would be fine. 

It seemed that one moment he was in the pasture, and now he was in his quarters. There was a gap he didn’t recall in between, but Konoha assured him it would come back with time. Though it felt as if only moments had passed, the sky was dark outside his window. When he had been in the pasture, it was light out but it was past noon, so that means a couple hours must have passed. 

Akaashi was hungry, ravenous, but Konoha said he couldn’t eat yet. That was rather unfortunate, but if Konoha told him he should wait, he would. 

“When I am able to eat again,” he murmured, “I want the most extravagant supper with those rapeseed plants and some of the mustard dressing from the merchant in town.” 

Konoha chuckled softly. He looked just as exhausted as Akaashi felt. 

“Of course, Akaashi. Is there anything else you would like?” 

“Some rice, and some lamb.” 

“Lamb?” 

Akaashi nodded. He felt a bit like a child. It reminded him why he didn’t care to be sick and taken care of in such excess. He didn’t appreciate feeling as if he were a burden. 

“I’ll be sure to have Yukie pick some up from the town market for you.” 

Bokuto stirred and mumbled into Akaashi’s calves. They both watched him with quiet interest. 

“How long has he been here? Have I asked that before?” 

“Too long,” Konoha sighed, but there was a soft smile on his lips, “And yes, you have, but don’t worry on it, Akaashi.” 

Akaashi hummed and twiddled with his fingers in his lap, smoothing his fingertips over his other hand and varying between firm presses and featherlight strokes. It was calming. The house felt eerily quiet, save for the sounds of the clock downstairs and Bokuto’s slow breathing. Akaashi wished he could read, but his headache pounded his skull and eardrums relentlessly. 

Suzumeda would come in on occasion and bring them water, ask how Akaashi was feeling, inquire if Konoha needed anything, give the dozing Bokuto a sympathetic smile. Aside from his headache and muscle soreness, Akaashi felt acceptable. The nausea had passed and he was able to turn his head without bouts of vertigo. 

Akaashi was unsure how much time had passed, but when Konoha assured him he could finally rest his head on the pillow, Akaashi couldn’t resist the sigh of relief. There was nothing he wanted more than to sleep this off. 

*** 

Akaashi drifted in and out of consciousness. He could hear snippets of conversation from what sounded to be Konoha and Bokuto, their voices hushed so as to not disturb him. 

“... not your fault, Bokuto.” 

“I shouldn’t have made that-” 

“Arabian horses are some of the most easily spooked, it’s quite fine, I assure you. This isn’t the first time Akaashi has gotten hurt during training. He’s resilient, he’ll be fine.” 

… 

“I feel terrible.” 

“I know you do, but you don’t have to.” 

“Akaashi-” 

“Akaashi wouldn’t want you to. He doesn’t like to feel a burden to friends.” 

The last thing Akaashi heard was a whisper. 

… 

“Okay.” 

*** 

The next day, Akaashi woke very slowly. His mouth felt parched and his stomach empty. Bokuto was no longer by his side, likely doing chores in the stables, but Konoha was sitting in a chair beside his bed, snoring lightly with his head tipped back at an angle that looked more than slightly uncomfortable. 

He resisted the temptation to politely invite Konoha to use his bed. As children, they had sometimes shared beds, but that time has long passed them. Akaashi didn’t want to wake him anyways. The dark bags beneath his eyes was telling of how much the previous day had worn on him. With unsteady steps, Akaashi wandered down the stairs towards the toilet, grateful for the railing on the staircase when he nearly tumbled down. 

When he returned, Konoha still hadn’t moved, but there was a fresh glass of water at his bedside that hadn’t been there when he left. It was most likely Suzumeda or Yukie. He sipped the water gratefully, sitting back into his bed when he deemed the ache of his muscles too much to continue standing comfortably. 

Akaashi was in his night clothes. He had no recollection of changing into his night clothes, and hoped that Bokuto hadn’t been there to help him change. That would have been rather embarrassing. He considered the implications with flushed cheeks and sipped his water again. 

Pulling up the night shirt, he examined the bruises littering his torso carefully. They were fresh, still colored in dark violets and reds with splotches of blue. One on his hip was noticeably larger than the rest, and when poked, definitely hurt more as well. It was round and roughly the size of a colt’s hoof. Fukuro’s hoof, specifically. 

From there, Akaashi could piece together the gist of what must have happened. After all, it’s not his first time being injured during horse training, although this certainly feels the most severe of the incidents. 

There was a soft knock on the door, and it creaked open slowly. Konoha stirred from his nap, blinking with squinted eyes at the door when Komi and Sarukui stepped inside quietly. 

Komi gasped audibly when his eyes met Akaashi, rushing over with a patter of footsteps on the hardwood floor. Akaashi was surprised when Komi didn’t embrace him, choosing instead to stop short and look between Konoha and Akaashi expectantly. He could see the worry on Komi’s face. 

“I’m fine, Komi,” Akaashi reassured softly. His voice felt small and rough from disuse. 

Komi watched Konoha for confirmation. Akaashi wasn’t offended. He was a jockey, and assumedly quite familiar with horse related incidents. Concussions were common, but they certainly were nothing to sniff at. 

“Probably a moderate concussion,” Konoha stated, “with some bruising and that one laceration upon his temple. Doctor Iwaizumi departed just a short while ago.” 

Akaashi frowned notably. He had no recollection of the doctor visiting. Perhaps his memory was not functioning as well as he had anticipated. 

“Iwaizumi came while you were asleep,” Konoha explained knowingly, as if he could interpret Akaashi’s concerns with ease. 

Akaashi was surprised that he had not woken up during the examination. 

“And what were Doctor Iwaizumi’s instructions this time?” Sarukui asked. 

“Bed rest, stretching, nothing too different from prior experiences,” Konoha answered nonchalantly with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

“And how do you feel, Akaashi?” Komi asked with a sad smile. 

“I have a bruise in the shape of a horse hoof on my hip,” Akaashi replied simply, making Komi laugh at the familiarity of it, “and I think it’s the most significant bruise I have had yet.” 

“That is because you have yet to see your back,” Konoha laughed dryly, “It’s nearly the size of a dinner plate.” 

Komi and Sarukui shared a look. They were so much on the same wavelength that Akaashi sometimes pondered if they were actually telepathic. 

This confirmed Akaashi’s previous suspicions that Konoha had been the one who had helped him into his night clothes, then. Perhaps with the assistance of Dr. Iwaizumi. Akaashi was unsure if he should be comforted that it was not Bokuto, or uncomfortable with the possibility of how much Konoha may have been privy to. 

Perhaps both. 

The light flush on Konoha’s cheeks determined it to be _absolutely_ both. 

Akaashi cleared his throat and fidgeted his fingers distractingly. 

“And what of Bokuto? I recall him being here before. I assume he is at the stables?” 

“Bokuto is taking this most roughly,” Konoha admitted with a scratch to the back of his head, continuing when he saw all attention upon him, “He seems to take all accountability himself, and won’t listen to any reasoning otherwise. It took quite a bit of convincing to coerce him to complete stable chores this morning. He wanted to be here to apologize when you were most at wits.” 

“I see,” Akaashi near-whispered. 

He could remember seeing Bokuto the previous day, sleeping draped across the duvet with dark circles below puffy red eyes. Akaashi struggled to remember what happened much before that beyond a few fuzzy glimpses of Bokuto and Konoha helping him up the stairs. Akaashi resolved to talking to Bokuto about it later today. 

Firstly, however, is food. 

There was no recollection of requesting his favorite food, or demanding it apparently, as Konoha had described it, but Akaashi was thankful for his own disoriented selfishness. After having not eaten for nearly a full twenty-four hours, his stomach was disturbingly empty and the lamb, rapeseed, and rice was a blessing. 

When Konoha assured him that Bokuto had assisted him again in the kitchen, he was impressed. Not only by the delectable state of the food, but also by Konoha’s casual admittance to working so pleasantly with Bokuto. Afraid to ruin what progress they had made in their relationship, Akaashi didn’t comment on it, but it made him smile nonetheless. 

Bokuto and Konoha joined him in the dining room for supper, and Bokuto refused to look him in the eye. It was bothersome, but the conversation he wanted to have with Bokuto surely was not suitable for a discussion at the dinner table. When they parted after supper, Akaashi instructed Bokuto to join him in his private quarters this evening after feeding the horses with Sarukui. Although Bokuto agreed, he seemed rather out of spirits and deflated. Konoha gave him a sharp and curious look, but Akaashi paid it no mind. 

Akaashi was inspecting the large bruise on his back in the mirror when a soft knock on his door caught his attention. He called lightly for the person to enter, expecting Konoha with his tea he had requested, when Bokuto slunk into the room. Bokuto froze when he saw the bruise on Akaashi’s back, and averted his eyes before essentially collapsing in the chair at the bedside. Akaashi watched him curiously as he seemed to melt depressedly into the wood. 

“How are you this evening, Bokuto?” Akaashi knew the answer, but the conversation had to start somewhere. 

Bokuto didn’t reply, his lips pulled into a depressive pout. He looked about to cry. 

“It was not your fault, Bokuto,” Akaashi said softly, sitting carefully on the bed beside the chair Bokuto had plopped himself into. 

If Bokuto was not going to respond to pleasant talk, perhaps it would be best to address the issue directly. 

Tears immediately poured from Bokuto, and he curled into himself like an armadillo seeking relief from danger. His hands clenched into his hair. It looked painful, and Akaashi couldn’t help but reach out to touch his shoulder in comfort as Bokuto fell apart. 

“It _is_ my fault!” Bokuto’s body trembled with every word he spoke, every sniffle of breath, “I dropped the bale of alfalfa from the loft and it crashed into the storage and it caused everything! I saw what happened! You didn’t see! You were there but you didn’t see! You couldn’t see and it was all my fault! Your head was bleeding, Akaashi! You couldn’t remember what happened or where you were and Konoha and I had to carry you up the stairs and those bruises are all my fault, Akaashi! You’re hurt.. And it’s all my fault...” 

Bokuto curled into himself tighter on the chair, swaying from side to side and threatening to fall off of the chair entirely. 

“That bruise is bigger than my head, Akaashi… it’s bigger than my head…” he near-whispered, small and defeated. 

For a brief moment, Akaashi considered assuring Bokuto that the bruise was _not_ the size of his head, but decided it would likely not be helpful to hear. Instead, he rubbed soothing paths along Bokuto’s shoulders and back, letting him vent his emotions through incoherent mumbling and harsh, angry sounding sniffles. When Bokuto finally quieted and his breathing regulated slightly, Akaashi exhaled softly through his nose in relief. He hadn’t realized he had stopped breathing. 

“I am not upset with you,” he assured quietly, remembering the way praise brightened Bokuto’s whole person, “You are an excellent worker and wondrous company, Koutarou. Even if I were to be upset with you, I wouldn’t be able to maintain it.” 

Bokuto peeked up, his brows furrowed and eyes puzzled as if he couldn’t decide whether to be more bewildered at being called his given name by Akaashi so casually or that Akaashi would choose now to compliment him. But he was no longer crying, which Akaashi considered a grand improvement, and he was looking directly at Akaashi now, no longer avidly avoiding him. 

“But I hurt you…” 

“You have never struck me, so I do not consider you at fault,” Akaashi replied simply. 

“But it was my fault.” 

“Would it help you to feel better if you could make it up to me?” 

Akaashi didn’t feel there was anything to compensate for, but if it would help to pull Bokuto from his slump, he was willing to entertain it. He enjoyed seeing Bokuto hum and dance his way through chores and blind him with his smile. It was painful to see him decrepit and withdrawn. It felt wrong, almost as if he were another person entirely. 

Bokuto seemed to perk up at the idea, uncurling from his ball just enough to let one foot touch the floor. Akaashi waited patiently while Bokuto seemed to think on it. 

“Would you... let me take care of you... while you’re hurt?” Bokuto asked slowly, a pink tint to the high of his cheekbones and a tinge of fear in those golden eyes as he waited for an answer. 

Akaashi opened his mouth, but before he could respond, Bokuto was rambling again. 

“I might be able to help you heal faster, ‘cause, ya know, Yamamoto said I was always good at helpin’ him stretch or massage when he was hurt, and I’m awfully familiar with it ‘cause I have gotten hurt a lot at different jobs, and ‘cause I’m kinda… clumsy, ya know, Akaashi, and-” 

“If it would please you,” Akaashi interrupted, “then the help is welcomed.” 

Bokuto smiled brightly, almost as if he had never been upset, and stood to his feet with a wide stretch. Akaashi noted that patience and praise seemed to help when Bokuto became overwhelmed. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt these would be good things to remember in the future. 

“If I recall properly, Konoha mentioned that Dr. Iwaizumi’s instructions included stretching, assumedly to keep my muscles from becoming stiff from inactivity while I heal.” 

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” Akaashi raised his eyebrows at the exclamation, “Then let’s stretch! You want to stretch with me? I can show you some really good ones, Akaashi! It’s best to stretch in the mornings and at nights, since that’s when people say still for the longest.” 

“Sure, Bokuto.” 

As promised, Bokuto was quite knowledgeable about different stretches and the muscles that should activate and relax with each movement. Akaashi was mildly surprised at how detailed Bokuto could become in his explanations of each stretch as he helped Akaashi through each position. Although he didn’t know the technical terms, he seemed to grasp a solid understanding of how it worked. Briefly, he mused that if Bokuto were born in a different situation, such as one similar to Akaashi’s, he would have made an excellent doctor like Iwaizumi. 

Akaashi had to reassure him he was fine when Bokuto accidently pressed on the bruise on his back, but otherwise it went quite smoothly. It was brief, just a couple of poses to help with Akaashi’s back and hips especially, where he had been most sore, but Akaashi was grateful. He had not been aware of how tight his muscles felt after the incident the previous day. 

If this was what he was to endure to make Bokuto feel better, he certainly was not to complain on the matter. 

What he was not prepared for, he thought as he laid down upon the bed stripped of his night shirt, was for Bokuto to insist on a massage. Concerned on causing Bokuto to deflate again, he hesitantly accepted. 

It felt most definitely too intimate. Initially, Akaashi had to resist the temptation to squirm with every touch, not accustomed to having such bare contact, but Bokuto was firm with broad warm palms and fingers. His thumbs pressed enough force the muscles to relax, but not enough to hurt, and Akaashi could tell he was particularly cautious around the tender bruises. It was socially and emotionally uncomfortable, leaving Akaashi hyperaware of every shift of his or Bokuto’s figure, every small noise, even as his body relaxed and he felt like he was about to fall asleep. 

It became monumentally more uncomfortable when a soft knock pressed at the door and before anything could be said otherwise, Konoha walked in with the requested tray of tea. At first, Akaashi wondered what had taken so long for Konoha to arrive with it, but the question was quickly dropped in lieu of concern for how Bokuto still sat beside him on the bed, his hands pressed into the bare skin of Akaashi’s lower back. 

Akaashi did not dare voice the question of Konoha’s tardiness. 

Konoha seemed frozen in place, eyes wide and the bronze tray grasped tightly in his hands. Even from across the room, Akaashi could see Konoha’s knuckles turn white from the strain. Bokuto seemed the only one unaffected by the atmosphere, greeting Konoha with a bright and characteristic hello. 

A small murmured greeting was given, but it was hardly audible enough to cross the space of the room. Akaashi was sure Bokuto didn’t hear it. 

Akaashi could only imagine the string of lewd assumptions Konoha must have made, judging by the hot flush of color that seem to consume his face, ears, and neck the longer he looked at Akaashi, but he couldn’t seem to find the words to explain what was happening. Akaashi wasn’t sure if this was because of the shock, or because he enjoyed having Bokuto’s hands on him, regardless of the improper implications. 

It seems that Sugawara has rubbed off on him. 

“I...brought the tea you requested, Akaashi,” Konoha stated, his voice tight as he set the tray on the nightstand. 

Akaashi’s eyes blew wide when he realized there were _two_ cups on the tray. 

Of course there were two cups. Konoha and Akaashi always had tea together in the evenings… 

Akaashi’s gut turned sour, and he sat up quickly, nearly knocking Bokuto off of the bed entirely. Bokuto yelped comically, but Akaashi was too consumed with the tension fizzling between himself and Konoha to appreciate it properly. Akaashi pulled his nightshirt as casually as he could muster from the chair at his bedside where it had been carefully placed before. He was struggling to maintain his composure. 

“Konoha,” he began quietly, unsure where to begin, especially while Bokuto was awkwardly hovering, but he didn’t want Konoha to leave, “Would you…” he searched his mind rapidly for an idea, “Would you mind reading to me this evening during tea? I’m afraid my headache is still too much of a bother for me to read properly and I would quite enjoy the company.” 

It was quite obvious he was attempting to repair a painfully tense situation between them, and Konoha most certainly caught on, but agreed nonetheless with a silent nod. 

“What kind of books do you like to read, Akaashi?” 

Akaashi turned to Bokuto, desperate to relieve the uncomfortable atmosphere. It was stifling. 

“I enjoy novels of all forms, though mysteries are of particular interest to me,” he paused, “Thank you for your help, Bokuto. I will be sure to call upon you in the morning if I need any more assistance.” 

Bokuto seemed to thankfully take the hint, bidding Akaashi and Konoha good night with a smile before disappearing with a soft click of the door. Akaashi nearly sighed audibly in relief. 

“Well, that was certainly a sight to view, Akaashi,” Konoha remarked impassively. Akaashi winced at the bitter undertone. 

“Yes, well,” Akaashi wasn’t sure how to explain the situation without sounding improper, settling for blunt honesty in the face of Konoha’s judgement, “I offered for Bokuto to try to make it up to me, since he seems incapable of forgiving himself for my injury, and he said he would help me with stretches. Since that was what Dr. Iwaizumi recommended.” 

Akaashi was perfectly aware of the differences between stretches and a massage. It certainly did not escape Konoha’s notice either. 

“Stretches,” he hummed, “What you choose to do behind closed doors is not my business. It doesn’t concern me.” 

Konoha’s statement didn’t match his expression. It was evident by the downturned corners of his lips and slightly furrowed brows that whether or not it should be his business did not mean he was not concerned with it. 

Somewhere within him, Akaashi was aware why Konoha cared so much about Akaashi’s affairs, but he pushed away the thought before he could really begin to fathom it. The last thing this situation needed was for him to dwell upon the thought and complicate matters further. 

“So, what novel would you like to hear this evening?” Konoha asked, his manner of speaking formal and detached. 

As they enjoyed tea and Konoha read aloud from a thick novel, Akaashi allowed his mind to wander. It was somehow more calming to have Konoha read to him than to read it himself, and granted him more time to think. 

Konoha was upset. Akaashi knew why, but didn’t want to address the likeliness that Konoha’s attentive nature and dedication to his role as Akaashi’s attendant was anything more than the platonic fondness of childhood friends. Unfortunately, what Akaashi desired to do may not be a choice, as Konoha’s attraction seemed to become more obvious as the days pressed forward. 

Akaashi, on the other hand, was not dense to his own growing fondness for Bokuto, much to the obvious displeasure of Konoha. As much as he would rather it not be so, simply for the desire of relations to remain at the most uncomplicated, having Bokuto’s hands upon his skin was pleasant. It would have been more pleasant if not for the lack of social scripts to guide mannerisms and if Akaashi were less resistant, but Akaashi could not deny the appeal of it. 

Bokuto was an intriguing dichotomy of hard and softs, strength and gentleness, blacks and whites; not unlike the striking tones of his hair and eyelashes. He was a mystery, as Akaashi has learned in the last few days with the resiliency of his moods and the briefest snippets of his character and backstory. 

Akaashi rather enjoyed mysteries, loved them in fact, but he was also keenly aware that mysteries were most often solved, and the intrigue would fade. It seemed only reasonable to assume that the infatuation with Bokuto would likely wither as the intrigue dissipated. 

Turning his attention to Konoha, he watched him read for a moment, the slender hands that turned the page and narrow eyes that darted back and forth to read the text scrawled in black ink. Even if the infatuation for Bokuto were to fade, there was nothing but his own reservations and Konoha’s judgement stopping him from entertaining the experience. And of course societal standards, but Akaashi wasn’t one to concern himself with those. 

Perhaps this sounded a bit more like Sugawara than Akaashi would have liked to admit. 

“Konoha,” Akaashi spoke within a break in Konoha’s reading, “If possible, I would like to call upon Sugawara for a visit tomorrow. I crave his company.” 

Konoha raised an eyebrow as if to ask _‘so suddenly?’_

Akaashi nodded in confirmation as if the question were spoken aloud. 

“I will call upon him tomorrow for you, then. I’m sure Washio wouldn’t mind taking the express trip to deliver the letter for you and inquire upon it.” 

It was a comfort to Akaashi to see Konoha look at him without the cold, distant contempt that he had been radiating earlier. His mannerisms seemed calm and relaxed, if even a bit depressive. If it were not for the dull thud of a headache and tender bruises, Akaashi could almost imagine that embarrassing encounter had not happened at all. 

*** 

Sugawara arrived at the estate a little past four in the afternoon, with the pleasant company of Yaku at his side. Akaashi smiled out the window at his company, giving a gentle wave when Yaku noticed him and waved in greeting. He wasn’t expecting to have Yaku’s company, but it certainly was not unwelcomed. 

Yaku and Sugawara were always welcome, expected or otherwise. 

What he should have truly expected but had not, was Sugawara to essentially burst into his study with his arms full of an obtuse amount of _whiskey._

“Suga!” Yaku snarled as the door swung open to reveal a bright eyed Sugawara, gasping Yaku, and exasperated Konoha stumbling into the room through the doorway, “You cannot just barge into Akaashi’s study like so! He is still recovering!” 

“Akaashi!” Sugawara chanted, his cheeks tinged a telltale pink, “We brought you the most excellent of gifts for your recovery, including, of course, myself~” He winked and grinned mischievously. 

Akaashi laughed, covering his mouth with his hand. Sugawara really knew how to brighten up a room, even if inebriated. 

“I’m sorry, Akaashi,” Yaku continued, “Suga got a little excited and drank perhaps a bit much on the ride here in the carriage. I should not have napped during the journey and instead guarded the whiskey, apparently.” 

“It’s no matter to me,” Akaashi assured, “Suga’s company really isn’t all that different when he’s consumed.” 

Yaku gave him a wary look at the jab, but took the bottles of whiskey from Suga and ushered him to sit at the circular table with Akaashi. Konoha inquired if they needed anything more, and seemed thankful to leave when Akaashi assured him they were not in need of any further services from him. 

“So, Akaashi,” Yaku slapped away Suga’s hand as it tried to pet his hair, “How are you feeling? It has been quite awhile since I have come to visit you, but when Suga relayed to me the manner of your current state I couldn’t help but come be sure you were alright.” 

“Yaku, those aren’t the important questions!” Suga exclaimed with an inebriated grin, “How progresses your current affairs with Sakusa?” 

“Sakusa? Of Sakusa Industries and Manor?” Yaku questioned with wide eyes. 

Akaashi wasn’t sure if he should be upset at Suga for blathering, since it was obvious his state was impaired, but he also couldn’t guarantee it wasn’t something Suga would not have stated while sober. Regardless, it left Akaashi feeling exasperated. 

“Sakusa has not visited me for awhile, not since I turned down his most recent dinner party invitation,” Akaashi conceded, ignoring the childish manner in which Suga blew a raspberry with his mouth, “I have been busy training my new foal.” 

“The one who sought fit to step you into the earth?” Yaku questioned. 

“The very one,” Akaashi laughed quietly, “He was spooked. It was not done out of spite or any sort of intentional attack. From what I gather, Bokuto had simply-” 

“Oooh! Bokuto! How is he?” Suga draped over Yaku’s shoulder irritatingly, “He’s really a sight to see, I assure you. And he is _so_ enamored with our Akaashi here~” 

Yaku blushed and crinkled his nose at the implication, and Akaashi wondered why the two were so close if Yaku seemed so displeasured at Suga’s less-than-gentlemanly mannerisms. For a moment, Akaashi considered how much of his latest affairs he should share, but he had called upon Sugawara’s company in vague hopes of reaching a form of enlightenment on the situation. Althought it was rather questionable how of use Suga’s input may be after he’s consumed so much whiskey. 

“Bokuto is well, Suga,” he assured, considering his next words carefully, “He felt rather ill of spirits when _this_ ” Akaashi gestured to his torso, “...happened. He rather blamed himself for the event, and in attempt to help him cope, I may have… agreed to allow him to take care of me while I heal.” 

“Take care of you? How so?” Yaku’s suspicious gaze was mirrored by Suga’s, although Suga’s eye gleamed with suggestive mischief. 

Akaashi could feel his cheeks warm at remembering the embarrassing event with Bokuto and Konoha the previous night. It was only worsened by the scrutinous gaze of Yaku who eagerly searched his face for answers. 

“With… stretching, and the like. For my recovery.” 

Yaku’s eyebrows neared his hairline and Suga burst into loud musical laughter on the other side of the table, throwing his head back and tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. Akaashi didn’t find it quite that humorous, and neither did Yaku, evidently. Yaku seemed incorrigibly horrified at Suga’s next admission. 

“You should most definitely seduce your stablehand! He is so fit! Not as fit as my Daichi, of course, but he is _very_ fit indeed.” 

Akaashi sighed, not expecting any less of Suga, but Yaku flittered between a look of bewilderment and a scowl at such a blatant admission of immodest activity. How Yaku spent so much time around Suga without imploding upon his own horror of Suga’s constant stream of devious words and acts was beyond Akaashi’s understanding. 

“Well, ah..” Yaku seemed at a loss for words, his attention flickering around the room wildly, “Are you… um.. Courting Bokuto _and_ Sakusa, Akaashi?” 

“I’m not sure I would admit myself to be courting anyone,” Akaashi replied smoothly. 

Perhaps Sugawara truly was influencing him too much, as he found he adored the shocked look upon Yaku’s face more than he should. He hoped this wasn’t turning into some form of pleasurable sadism. 

*** 

Upon nightfall, Akaashi allowed routine to shift. It was slight, but a shift all the same. 

Instead of his nightly tea with Konoha, they indulged in the whiskey brought by Sugawara and Yaku, relaxing into the comfort of the study and admiring the swirls of stars beyond the window glass. 

It was just as pleasant as it was before, a great comfort for Akaashi who had been concerned that his being caught with Bokuto that evening would endanger his good natured relationship with Konoha. Akaashi looked at Konoha for a moment. He seemed tired still, dark bags beneath his eyes and a sort of weathered look upon him, but he seemed content with a half empty glass of whiskey and a faint flush to his cheeks and neck. 

During the visit, Sugawara, although intoxicated, had listed what he had considered perfectly amicable benefits for Akaashi to entertain anything of promiscuous nature with Bokuto. It had been a ridiculous list with everything ranging from a release of tension to reasons as frivolous as _‘why not, Akaashi?’_

And maybe it was just the whiskey, but Akaashi found himself wondering the same thing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be an update to tags, so take a moment to double check the tags when you read the next update.  
> I'll post a reminder then as well, but it will have some NSFW elements.  
> Not hardcore pornographic, but more than just suggestive. 
> 
> Kudos, Comments, and the like are all much appreciated!  
> Talk to me on tumblr too! I'm Foxyena or FoxyenaArts on all websites


	5. Learn Something New

[Chapter 5: Learn Something New] 

Akaashi dreamt in black and white.

The world around him should have been rich with color, but all Akaashi could see was streaks of black and white, shifting with the flex of muscles and folds of skin. It was foreign, but familiar and welcoming. The black and white lashes split to reveal bright golden eyes, and Akaashi’s body radiated warmth at their glow. He couldn’t look from that gaze as he felt the sweat-slick slide of skin against skin, the telltale heat in his abdomen and electricity thrumming through his veins. 

If he listened closely, he could hear his own gasps for breath and a medley of cries that felt too distant, echoing through every crevice in his mind and ringing in his ears. It felt lighthearted, more like a musical laugh than a cry of passion, and Akaashi reveled in it. 

Those golden eyes never looked away, fixed on Akaashi just as Akaashi was fixated on them. Akaashi watched tears collect at the side of them. They blinked to clear the moisture away, but when they opened again, the gaze was soft, almost melting in radiant warm color. 

Akaashi felt pliant lips on his, warm breath coming in desperate gasps, the vibration of one of those musical, laugh-like moans tickling his skin. He felt like his whole being had been suspended mid-shiver, tingling and trembling with tight, excited muscles. He finally tugged his gaze from those eyes, tucking his head to the side where white and black hair tickled his nose, and he woke up. 

*** 

“How is Akaashi doing? Is he well?” 

Konoha looked up from where he was mixing Akaashi’s sugar into the tea, stirring it smoothly with practiced ease. The click of silver on porcelain was pleasant and routine. Yukie stood at the doorway of the kitchen, her hands full of eggs from the coop for breakfast. 

“Akaashi’s doing better,” Konoha replied, “but he still cannot ride or continue the foal’s training quite yet.” 

“I’m sure that must be quite unfortunate for him,” Yukie laughed, setting the eggs upon the counter carefully. 

“Mhm,” Konoha hummed, “He mentioned wanting to travel to town today though. By carriage, I would suspect, since he cannot work with the horses. It seems he is feeling a bit restless.” 

“Not unlike the last time then~” Yukie smiled with an energetic wave before disappearing around the corner into the pantry. 

With a sigh, Konoha collected the tea kettle, cup, and additional sugar onto the tray to take up to Akaashi’s room. The black tea was Akaashi’s only saving grace upon waking up in the morning, and Konoha would never let Akaashi begin his day without it. 

When Konoha cracked open the bedroom door, he nearly dropped the tray. It was one of _those_ mornings. The shuffle of blankets and bedsheets and small gasps for breath were clear enough a sign that Konoha should back out and close the door, as he had done during past occurrences, but he found his feet planted to the floor. 

He could feel himself stir with embarrassing interest, and nearly snickered at his own thoughts. 

_Feeling quite restless indeed, apparently._

Konoha slipped back through into the hallway and closed the door as softly as he could manage. Setting the tray of tea on a nearby table, he allowed himself to slide his back down the wall and sit on the floor next to the door. He would wait until Akaashi was ready, like he always had. 

The time had long passed that Konoha felt awkward waiting for Akaashi. Although it was not necessarily troublesome, it was somewhat embarrassing, especially if he allowed himself to admit that he actually rather _enjoyed_ hearing every small gasp and _‘ah’_ from within the bedroom. Admitting to admiring Akaashi was one thing, but admitting to this sort of voyeurism was something else entirely. 

Konoha used to avoid the sounds avidly. Gradually, as he came across them time and time again throughout the years, he would find himself hovering nearby to wait. He grew comfortable just waiting, but the comfort was displaced by curiosity. It escalated as his infatuation with Akaashi grew, boiling over the edge and bringing him to his knees. Hesitantly, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to imagine how beautiful Akaashi must be with cheeks flushed and a glisten of sweat. 

Akaashi would be absolutely stunning. Konoha had seen Akaashi grow and flourish over the years, how childish baby fat morphed into graceful lithe muscle and smooth skin dotted with the occasional sunkissed freckle. Even with the bruises from his accident with Fukuro, Konoha had to struggle to maintain his composure as Doctor Iwaizumi and he had dressed Akaashi in his night clothes. He was sure Iwaizumi had noticed. 

Konoha had seen plenty, but he also felt he could never see enough of Akaashi. 

His cranium thumped against the wall when he tilted his head back, smoothing his hands down his thighs and focusing on the rough texture of thread beneath his fingertips. He heard another sound from Akaashi through the door. 

He shouldn’t. Konoha really should _not._

But he slipped his hand up his thigh to the firmness in his drawers and breathed a sigh of relief from the touch. Even through the barrier of fabric, the contact felt heated and electric with the sounds from Akaashi fresh in his mind and his imagination consumed with what Akaashi would look like beneath him, panting and calling only for him. 

A shuddering breath exhaled from him as he dragged his fingernails in featherlight touch along the shaft through the cotton, drawing up the courage to palm it completely. Konoha kept his eyes pressed closed, listening desperately for any small sound from Akaashi’s bedroom. It felt embarrassing, _shameful,_ but somehow all the more exciting for it. 

When he heard another whimpering sound from Akaashi, he gripped himself tight and let go of his inhibitions, allowing himself just this once to get lost in his imagination, in his shameless adoration and affinity for everything _Akaashi._

What he would give just to be able to walk in there with Akaashi at this very moment and be accepted without any questions or hesitance, to be able to hold and feel every inch and breath of Akaashi. But he convinced himself that this was good enough, the throb of himself within his grasp outside the door, never quite enough but more than he could ever ask for. 

Because despite his affinity for Akaashi and growing up together, Konoha’s significance to Akaashi is tenuous. He knows he will always be Akaashi’s assistant, his companion, but never anything more, and hopefully never anything less. After all, he was only Akaashi’s friend by proxy. Had he not been adopted by Akaashi’s family in his youth for work, Akaashi would have never given him even the slightest side glance. 

Unfortunately, that did not make it any easier to see him with someone else. 

Especially someone else of Konoha’s social class, someone who gave Konoha a small sense of faux hope that _maybe_ Akaashi would have accepted him, had he told him, since the barrier of social class seems unimportant… 

Bokuto could not be blamed for it, not truly. Akaashi was beautiful, and Konoha could never blame anyone for seeing it. After all, how could they not? 

Konoha gripped the head one final time through the fabric, hearing a muffled cry from beyond the closed door, and shuddered with a breathy, stifled groan. At that moment, the fog dissipated, and the monumental anxiety of his actions, of being _caught_ , overtook him. He scrambled to his feet, wobbly yet eager to flee before he was seen, leaving the tea at the table near the door, and ignored the distasteful wet feeling in his trousers as he descended the stairs to change. 

On his way down, he met Yukie. He awkwardly requested she bring Akaashi his tea and breakfast. Konoha didn’t need to explain why. Yukie knew of his conundrum, his unrequited affinity for the master of the estate. With a sympathizing smile, she nodded and bid him her best regards. 

Konoha did his best to avoid Akaashi, declining breakfast with him under the premise of not being hungry, and staying in the kitchen whenever possible. If he strayed from the kitchen and came across Akaashi in the house, he would pass through as quickly as possible, anxious that he would somehow blurt out his earlier transgressions. 

The guilt turned his stomach sour. 

Akaashi certainly knew Konoha was avoiding him. There was no doubt within Konoha’s mind that Akaashi was aware. It had been obvious with every not-so-subtle dodge of conversation and his uncharacteristically quiet company. 

It could not be avoided forever. 

*** 

Akaashi was losing his patience with Konoha. Yukie had been polite but unhelpful in providing him with his morning tea, gifting him with no explanation as to why his usual companion was nowhere to be found. His breakfast had been lonely without Konoha’s company, and when it came time for Akaashi to travel into town, he nearly sighed in relief when he managed to get Konoha to accompany him. 

They stepped into the carriage with a polite greeting and wave to Washio. Konoha was still evading looking him in the eyes as they took their seats beside one another. Akaashi watched Konoha for a moment, noticing the awkward fidgeting and popping of his fingers, the tight swallow of anxiety in his throat. Guilty. Everything Konoha was doing was pointing to him feeling guilty. For what? Akaashi couldn't help but wonder. 

_What did you do?_

“You’ve been avoiding my company, have you not, Konoha?” Akaashi asked, always preferring the direct method in addressing problems. 

Konoha seemed to choke on nothing in particular, coughing and sputtering in attempt to regain his composure. Akaashi quirked an eyebrow but waited for him to answer. 

“I -ah- I apologize,” he replied, sort and vague. 

Akaashi resisted the temptation to narrow his eyes and furrow his brows. He hated having to pry. 

“Did I do something to offend you?” 

“You could never do anything to offend me, Akaashi. Offend is simply… not the correct word.” 

Akaashi sighed, watching Konoha carefully through the bumps in the cobblestone path. Konoha wasn’t even being clever with his blatant resistance to admitting what was troubling him. It was testing Akaashi’s patience. 

“What word would work best to describe the phenomena?” 

“I...ah…” Konoha’s face flushed, “I attempted to bring you tea this morning but you were…otherwise occupied. I’m afraid I have just been rather… off, this morning, since.” 

If Konoha left out the specificities of his own activities, Akaashi would never be the wiser. 

There was a mere moment of confusion before Akaashi recognized _exactly_ to what Konoha was referencing. The embarrassment slowly flooded his face. Akaashi’s cheeks and ears felt flush and warm, and he found himself fiddling with his fingers in his lap in silence, avoiding Konoha’s eyes. Not that Konoha was looking at him either. 

Suddenly, he regretted prying so much, for being so stubborn. Certainly, having been avoided all day had been tedious, but Akaashi found he much preferred it to the deafening awkwardness they were suffering through now. 

He had no idea how to respond. Apologize? Attempt to joke of the matter? Pretend it never occurred? 

Ignoring problems never solves them. 

“I’m… That’s...woefully embarrassing. I greatly apologize you witnessed such activity from me.” 

Konoha waved his hand dismissively, a familiar habit performed too quickly to feel quite composed, and looked out the window of the carriage away from Akaashi. Akaashi could still see the red of his ears. 

“I assure you, it was quite fine. It was no burden upon me to…” Konoha paused, seemingly realizing the implications his words with wide eyes before mumbling the last of his sentence quietly, “...see you... that way.” 

“Oh,” Akaashi contemplated the answer carefully, “I see.” 

They rode the rest of the trip in silence which, although was not uncommon for them, felt foreign and stiff-aired in the cab of the carriage. Akaashi couldn’t seem to pull his mind from the admission. He had had his own suspicions on the matter in the past, but honestly had hoped it would never require addressing. Surely, if Konoha did not mind viewing Akaashi in such improper manners, the feelings he held for the aristocrat were less platonic than that of childhood friends. 

Akaashi hoped that this revelation would not interrupt the comfort between them. 

Konoha had always been his place of stability. When his parental figures would come and go, their affection as fickle as their frequency at the estate, Konoha had always been present, stable, and reliable in his unwavering flexibility to accomplish tasks and keep Akaashi company. Akaashi cherished the relation between them, and the idea of tainting it left him feeling anxious and uneasy. 

Akaashi tried not to chew his lip anxiously for the remainder of the trip, watching the scenery pass by through the window and listening to the rhythmic clop of horse hooves on the roadway. He was aware of the occasional glances he would receive from Konoha beside him, fiddling with this fingers and reassuring himself that his friendship with Konoha would not crumble this easily. 

Washio drove the horses through the street in the center of town, parking the horse and carriage at the end of the row of market stalls. Without a word, Konoha stepped from the carriage and extended his hand for Akaashi to grasp upon his exit. It was a familiar gesture, not necessary but always done and always appreciated. 

The hope that their relationship would remain as reliable and stable as it had always been permeated with the gesture and left Akaashi’s chest feeling a little bit lighter as his bootheels hit the stone. 

The town markets were not Akaashi’s favorite place to be, but the fresh change of scenery helped alleviate his restlessness from being unable to work with the horses. Normally it was up to the house staff to travel to the markets and purchase supplies for the estate, but Akaashi rather enjoyed the simple conversation of the merchants and the chatter of unimportant gossip. 

Akaashi was admiring the tight twist of reins in a bridle at a leatherworking station when a familiar timbre caught Akaashi’s attention, and he turned his head just in time to lock his gaze with _Sakusa._

Something about seeing Sakusa so suddenly left Akaashi feeling nervous. Perhaps it was the frivolous nature of which he had dismissed the man’s extravagant invitation for the banquet at his estate. Or perhaps it was Sakusa’s unwavering confidence and enrapturing, intimidating intelligence. Akaashi was so consumed in attempting to imagine a worthy enough excuse that he barely responded with a quiet hum when Konoha pointed out with a gentle jab of his elbow that Sakusa was approaching them, his company in tow. 

Sakusa was just as beautiful at a distance as he was up close, with wily curls of dark hair and piercing eyes that softened when he stood before Akaashi and Konoha with a quiet greeting. 

“Akaashi,” he greeted smoothly, and the unfamiliar of the two men at Sakusa’s side seemed to perk up at the mention of Akaashi’s name, “I hope you are well. I missed your company at our most recent event.” 

“My sincerest apologies, I was,” Akaashi searched for an excuse, “...injured, from horse training. I hope you will excuse my absence. It was not willful.” 

Konoha shot Akaashi a sharp, curious look at the lie, but Akaashi ignored it. He knew that the banquet occurred well before Akaashi’s injury and that Konoha was likely to inquire upon it later regardless. Sakusa seemed to be appraising Akaashi’s statement, considering it carefully with an inquisitive and sharp gaze that made Akaashi feel guilty for having ignored his invitation so thoughtlessly. Akaashi had forgotten how intense and attentive Sakusa was with him since the last time he had been in the man’s company. 

“I’m sorry to hear that! I hope you’re feeling better. You seem at most at wits as you usually are,” the familiar man beside Sakusa responded cheerfully. Akaashi recognized him as Sakusa’s right hand man, Komori Motoya. 

Akaashi smiled warmly at Komori’s friendliness. He was a bright and amiable man, similar in radiance to Sugawara, although he lacked the gleam of devious mischief Akaashi was so fond of. Komori always reminded Akaashi of a very friendly dog. Perhaps that is why Konoha seemed so fond of his company as well. 

“A bit bruised, but otherwise I fare well enough, thank you.” 

Komori seemed pleased with the answer, his thick eyebrows raised and dimples in his cheeks as he happily turned to chat with Konoha, leaving Akaashi under Sakusa’s appreciative eyes and the scrutinizing gaze of the stranger on Sakusa’s opposite side. 

“I am happy to see you are healing and in well enough spirits,” Sakusa stated quietly, and Akaashi nodded, his attention still caught by the peculiar look of the stranger not yet introduced to him. 

Akaashi couldn’t help but notice the seemingly uncomfortable shifting of the outsider on Sakusa’s other side. A slender yet muscular man with sharp narrow eyes and neat hair that was parted to frame his face. He seemed rather anomalous looking, his features angular and sharp with high cheekbones and thin pursed lips. The man was watching Akaashi out of the corner of his eyes with seemingly mild interest. Akaashi couldn’t help but wonder who he was. He had certainly never seen him before, as his looks were certainly unique enough to be quite memorable. 

“Oh! And pardon my rudeness, truly! This is Daishou Suguru, a prominent figure in imports and a very excellent friend of ours!” Komori introduced with a beaming grin and popped the bubble of Akaashi’s thoughts, seemingly in tune with his curiosity of the stranger. Of _Daishou._

“It’s good to finally meet one of the Akaashi estate,” Daishou said smoothly with a thin yet wide smile, his hand extended to Akaashi, “I am quite familiar.” 

His hands were surprisingly rough, workers hands, and Akaashi wondered what Daishou participated in to earn such calluses despite his apparent wealth. Judging by the very fine fashion he wore, Akaashi imagined Daishou to be just as wealthy as Sakusa, if not more. 

Daishou placed a gentlemanly kiss on the back of Akaashi’s hand after he shook it, and Akaashi did not miss the sharp narrowing of eyes and tightening of jaw from Sakusa. It surprised Akaashi slightly, as he had never taken Sakusa as the jealous type. Sakusa’s friend seemed unaffected by Sakusa’s heavy look, and merely smiled wider at Akaashi’s widened eyes at the gesture. 

Akaashi felt absolutely certain he had never met nor heard of a Daishou in his life. He certainly would have remembered someone like this. 

“It is my pleasure, Daishou,” Akaashi responded, perhaps a bit late, but hopefully not too obvious that he had been consumed in thought about the stranger. Maybe also a bit shocked at the boldness of Daishou’s briefest touch of lips to his hand. 

Certainly, if he were a good friend to Sakusa and Komori, he would know of Sakusa’s interest in courting Akaashi. 

“I’m sure it is.” 

_Peculiar._

Everything about this man was odd and perplexing, from his apparent appraisal of Akaashi to his overt familiarity in his gesture. It was smooth and politely suave, but his eyes were perceptive and conniving, watching every movement with rapt attention and vague amusement. It felt almost predatory, but more like an animal wishing to play with its food rather than consume it. 

Akaashi wondered just how Daishou was familiar with his family name. 

“I would be rather pleased to have you visit my estate again, Akaashi,” Sakusa interrupted his thoughts, “It’s been quite a while and I have rather enjoyed your company. Once you’ve healed, you are most welcome to visit, for afternoon tea and dinner perhaps.” 

Akaashi smiled politely at Sakusa’s invitation. Sakusa was good company, although often quiet and more formal than any of Akaashi’s other company. There was a rare tint of pink to Sakusa’s cheeks, faint and endearing. 

“That sounds like a lovely plan, Sakusa,” Daishou chimed in nonchalantly, seemingly disinterested in the concept despite his apparent desire to be included in the conversation regardless. 

Sakusa didn’t even blink at Daishou’s interruption in their conversation. 

“Certainly, Sakusa. That sounds quite pleasant. You are most welcome to visit my estate upon your own volition, just alert Konoha ahead of your arrival so we can plan accordingly. I would be happy to entertain you.” 

Sakusa seemed pleased, turning to Komori expectantly. Akaashi was impressed with how Komori seemed to interpret the vague look perfectly. He paused his prior conversation with Konoha and turned to Sakusa without missing a beat. 

“Sakusa and myself have some business dealings to attend to, but I’m sure we could visit the estate for tea in less than a fortnight!” Komori confirmed, “I will be sure to send a letter to Konoha!” 

Konoha nodded absently in agreement, seemingly distracted by something Komori must have told him. Akaashi made a mental note to ask Konoha later if he had known Daishou prior to their meeting, especially as Daishou whispered something into Sakusa’s ear. With a polite bow and farewell, Sakusa motioned for Komori and Daishou to leave. 

Daishou waved back to Akaashi as they left, and Akaashi couldn’t shake the feeling that it felt a tad flirtatious. 

As he and Konoha watched them walk down the cobblestone road and turn down the alleyway, Akaashi wondered what exactly Daishou’s connection to Sakusa was. Sakusa didn’t appear to be overtly fond of his company, but seemed to respect him all the same. He supposed that would make sense if they were solely business partners, but Komori had described Daishou as a good friend. 

“Konoha, I would like to drop by a couple more stalls before we travel home,” Akaashi stated as he turned to wander a little. He didn’t have anywhere in particular he wanted to visit, he was simply unwilling to venture home quite yet. He often found he thought most deeply when he walked. 

Konoha nodded and followed him with ease as they distractedly peered through stalls of fruits, vegetables, and leatherworks, eventually making their way back to where Washio lounged casually with the carriage. As they became comfortable on their trip home, Akaashi turned in his seat to face Konoha as properly as he could manage in the small space. 

“Have we met a Daishou before, Konoha?” 

Konoha seemed to be expecting the question, or at least had been pondering something similar. 

“Not that I recall. He seemed rather memorable though, so I’m sure if we had met him in the past, I would remember him. He did seem a bit queer, didn’t he?” Konoha’s remark was not mocking, as Akaashi would have suspected, but instead seemed wary and inquisitive. 

Akaashi hummed in agreement. 

“Daishou said he was quite familiar with the Akaashi family. I wonder if he has business relations with my father perhaps?” 

“I’m not sure,” Konoha admitted with a blunt shrug. 

“He seemed so peculiar…” 

“Sakusa certainly didn’t appear to appreciate his friendliness towards you,” Konoha snickered, his eyes teasing. 

Akaashi scowled, but it was obvious that it held no real ill will to it. It was true, when Daishou had kissed his hand, Sakusa appeared more than simply put out by the gesture. Were a gaze deadly, Sakusa’s would have been severe enough to do more than simply maim. 

“I wonder if Sakusa finds you contaminated now,” Konoha mused. 

“Contaminated? Surely you do not think so ill of Daishou quite yet,” Akaashi frowned, confused at the notion that such a simple gesture would be considered so revolting. 

What Akaashi did not know was that the idea of it was not specific to Daishou, and only Akaashi seemed an exception to Sakusa’s particular affront to contact. Konoha blinked at him, startled by Akaashi’s naivety. 

“You…” Konoha paused, gathering his wits. “Sakusa is known for his aversion to human contact.” 

Akaashi pondered the idea carefully before shaking his head softly in disagreement. 

“He has never shown such reservations with me. In fact, he seems more than content upon even the smallest brushes of contact,” Akaashi chewed his lip and fiddled his fingers, “Although, since you have mentioned it, Sugawara once described to me something similar about his character.” 

“What did Suga say?” 

“Hmm. Something about how my experience of Sakusa is different than that of others.” 

“I would agree with Suga. The familiar kindness he shows to you is rather unique, Akaashi.” 

Akaashi bit his lip in thought. Sakusa had been somewhat physical with him in past visits, a simple hand at his back to guide him as they walked through the gardens or brushing a stray curl of hair from Akaashi’s face. Admittedly, Akaashi had not thought too much of it at the time, but those affectionate gestures had been slowly growing in frequency. Whilst Akaashi in no way considered Sakusa and himself to be exclusively courting, it was obvious that Sakusa had grown rather fond of Akaashi. 

Perhaps this fondness did indeed leave Akaashi as an exception to Sakusa’s otherwise distaste for physical contact with other people. The more he considered it, the more he realized that he had never seen Sakusa touch another person, save for slight brushes from Komori during brief transactions. 

“This aversion,” Akaashi began, “do you think this is what causes so many to consider Sakusa unfavorable of a gentleman?” 

Konoha seemed startled by the question, and Akaashi was unsure if it was due to his presumed naivety of the matter, or the idea of Sakusa being considered unfavorable. 

“I have talked with some of Sakusa’s household staff in town before. I wouldn’t necessarily describe the man as unfavorable, but his house staff do describe him as compulsive at times. Apparently his attentiveness to withholding a clean and orderly estate borders on excessive. Komori had once described it to me as a very strict adherence.” 

A strict adherence to what exactly, Akaashi was unsure, but having a clean and orderly home certainly did not sound as if to be disheartening of someone’s character. That being said, anything when done in excess could be harmful. Akaashi decided to withhold judgement on the matter until he experienced or witnessed such events firsthand. 

Akaashi’s mind wandered to Bokuto. Bokuto was so drastically different than Sakusa, usually covered in dirt or animal dander, loud and carefree, while Sakusa was calm and reserved with careful judgement and actions. Sakusa’s eyes were sharp and perceptive, while Bokuto’s were soft and molten… 

Or perhaps that was just the Bokuto he saw in his own mind this morning. 

Akaashi coughed a bit awkwardly at his own memory. 

Eyes emanate much of a person’s character, or so Akaashi believed, from the perceptive, serpentine eyes of Daishou to the appraising and analytical eyes of Sakusa, and the expressive, uninhibited eyes of Bokuto. Akaashi looked to Konoha across the stagecoach, his eyes narrow but attentive, yet seemingly tired at the same time. He wondered what people could see in his own eyes, if they were as telling of his character as he found others’ to be. 

Akaashi stifled a yawn behind his hand and blinked sleepily. He murmured to Konoha his desire to take a nap upon his return, and allowed his mind to be consumed in thought for the remainder of the ride. When he arrived home, it took everything within him not to just collapse into his bed immediately, instead at least taking the moment to remove his shoes and loosen his belt comfortably. 

Instead of dreaming of molten gold or black and white, Akaashi dreamt of snakes and weasels with warm fur, sleek scales, and sharp teeth. And although the content was different, Akaashi found himself intrigued all the same. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT TIME:  
> -That sweet sweet BokuAka bonding  
> -Flirts?? Tease??  
> -Konoha you sly dog


	6. Emotional Entanglement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoha decided to conclude this as his farewell.

[Chapter 6: Emotional Entanglement] 

More than a week passed Akaashi by.

Nearly two weeks had passed when Akaashi received clearance from Iwaizumi to begin training the horses again. He woke up with an eager inhale of breath and sleepy stretch, ecstatic to finally resume training Fukuro post his breakfast routine. After his injury and the long wait time, Akaashi was quite behind schedule and eager to resume. 

The sky was still full of spring birds, but Akaashi could feel the chilly nip in the morning air as spring melted into autumn. If he wanted to mount Fukuro before winter, he needed to dedicate more time than he had originally planned to training him. The foal had been progressing nicely last time Akaashi worked with him, but that had been two weeks ago. 

He still had yet to hear anything from Sakusa or Komori as well, but he would make time for them whenever they called upon him. 

When Konoha brought Akaashi his black morning tea, Akaashi was already awake and alert in his study. It was a rare sight, as Akaashi never left bed so early, but his calm excitement led him to sleeping less and reading more. He had been too restless to sleep, but at least with the distraction of novels, he could sit still, not agitate his injuries further and wait until the horses were fed and groomed by Bokuto and Sarukui. 

Though quite honestly, he felt as if he were well beyond healed and he was sure Bokuto would have been happy to wake up early to feed the horses with Akaashi. 

Konoha set the bronze tray onto the table with a high quirk of his brow. The table was practically rattling with how frantically Akaashi’s leg was bouncing. Akaashi was biting and sucking into the flesh of his bottom lip absentmindedly, and running his tongue along it soothingly every few minutes while he read. Konoha tried not to fixate on it. 

For a moment, Konoha considered that perhaps this morning Akaashi did not need the caffeine, but that wasn’t his decision to make. Necessity or not, it was routine for Akaashi to sit with his morning tea, and Konoha wanted to be sure this morning started out as smoothly as he could manage. With a slight shake of his head and a smile, he gave Akaashi the cup, and sat across from him. 

“Enjoying tea with me this morning, Konoha? That’s rather rare.” 

“With how your leg trembles so, I’m concerned that if I leave you alone, you’ll vibrate yourself off into the atmosphere.” 

The leg instantly stopped as if caught red-handed, and Konoha couldn’t help a snort. 

Akaashi sipped his tea with a sharp look but didn’t answer. 

From his seat, Konoha could see the bookshelf across the room filled with gifts from the elder Akaashi for Keiji, mostly owl related items. At least they knew something that Akaashi liked, although Konoha was certain they would be none the wiser if he had not told them personally of Keiji’s affinity for the creatures. The new figurine caught his eye amongst the others, smaller yet sharp with crisp detail and unique markings. 

He turned his attention back to Akaashi. 

“Truthfully though, Bokuto assisted Yukie and myself with breakfast this morning, so it is prepped for the table much earlier than usual. If you don’t mind, I thought we could enjoy some tea together this morning,” Konoha explained simply, pouring himself a cup of tea from the tray. 

Konoha enjoyed his tea black, simple and unmodified, but he would take it any way if it were offered to him. He didn’t want to pour the tea ahead of time as he did Akaashi’s, just in case Akaashi preferred his tea time alone this morning. He could tell by the look in Akaashi’s eyes that that was not the case, however. 

“Certainly,” Akaashi smiled into his cup with a soft sigh. 

He looked happy, and Konoha couldn’t help but smile at the genuine merriment radiating from Akaashi. Konoha may not like the horses himself, but he could appreciate how happy the animals made Akaashi. Just the thought of finally being able to ride and train the foal again had Akaashi absolutely beaming. Or at least, he hoped that was the cause and not a certain stablehand. 

He shook the doubts from his mind. 

“Though, if you would rather spend the morning alone to bounce your leg off into the next dimension, please, don’t allow me to stop you.” Konoha smirked. Snide remarks were his comfort zone, his place where he could default to whenever he felt unsure or uneasy by his situation or even his own thoughts. 

“So teasing this morning, Konoha. How unbecoming of you,” Akaashi remarked, “Though, I’m not quite sure this is something new.” 

“You love it anyways, Akaashi.” 

A small grin, and Konoha knew it was all in good sport. His heart had skipped a beat when he said the word _love_ but he ignored it. After the most disconcerting conversation they had on their most recent trip to town, Konoha had been walking on eggshells in attempt to maintain their close relationship. His admission of his attraction to Akaashi had been bold and regretful enough, and he had spent every moment since grateful that Akaashi had not decided to distance himself from Konoha for it. 

Although he wasn’t surprised, it still made his heart ache at the thought that Akaashi also did nothing to address it either. Konoha wouldn’t admit to having hoped for it to be mutual, and although he thought it unlikely at best, that did not mean he didn’t still have a small reserve of hope. It couldn’t be helped. 

Akaashi should be with someone as stunning and important as himself anyways. 

They enjoyed their tea in silence, Akaashi peering into the black script within a leather bound novel and Konoha admiring the decor of Akaashi’s study. Unlike the rest of the estate, Akaashi’s study was the only room in which Akaashi controlled all of the decor. The figurines, paintings, and even the fabric casings for the furniture were all of Akaashi’s design and choosing. Konoha often admired the room when Akaashi was otherwise occupied, and found it to be his favorite room in the manor. 

But the one new figurine kept catching his attention. He was uncertain if this was due to the simple novelty of it being new, or for another unknown cause, but Konoha admired it from his chair all the same. 

*** 

Breakfast was simple and pleasant, although uneventful. Akaashi consumed his meal with exuberance, drinking the last of his water before Konoha had even finished his food. For once, he actually finished his breakfast just as quickly as Bokuto, whom Akaashi had mused about once or twice for eating at a speed that should be considered _inhuman._

It felt as if the last couple weeks of energy he had reserved during his recovery was brimming at the surface, leaving him almost running to the stables with Bokuto. Maybe this sort of overwhelming energy is what Bokuto felt all the time. Akaashi could feel the appeal of it. It made him feel a bit childish and uninhibited too. 

Bokuto seemed to adore Akaashi’s energetic demeanor, his smile glowing and eyes crinkled with little crow’s feet decorating the edges of them. The normal pep in his step was accentuated, leaving him practically skipping down the path to the stables. Akaashi couldn’t help but laugh when he tripped seemingly over his own feet and stumbled into a bush with a loud cry. 

Akaashi was waiting in the stable while Bokuto fetched Fukuro from the pasture. He leaned against the wooden doorframe of the tack room, uncharacteristically happy for something that should feel so common. After so long, he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t wait to get back to work again. 

“Good morning, Akaashi,” Komi greeted, peeking his head from a nearby stall. He was covered in hay, strands sticking out of his hair and clothes wildly. 

It was endearing, even if a bit messy. Akaashi felt he got a glimpse of what Sarukui must see in Komi. Or perhaps it was just his good mood that made everything rosey. 

“Good morning, Komi,” he replied calmly, “Rolling in the hay stacks this morning?” He pointed to his hair. 

“Oh!” Komi laughed, ruffling the top of his hair to shake out the straws of hay, “Saru and I had a hay fight! You seem to be in quite the good mood this morning. Quite excited to get back to the horses, huh?” 

Akaashi hummed, “I am.” 

“I think they missed you too,” Komi chuckled slyly, “Although, not as much as Bokuto. Did you know Bokuto doesn’t know how to ride horses? Weird, considering the amount of time he spends around them.” 

Brows furrowed, Akaashi frowned slightly. He distinctly remembered when Bokuto had offered to help Akaashi with training. Only Bokuto would offer to help train horses when he himself didn’t even know how to ride them. 

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me,” Akaashi admitted as Bokuto walked in with Fukuro on a lead rope, “But that’s a useful skill he really should be taught. If we ever needed to send him out for errands, it would be troublesome to walk such a long way.” 

“I can teach him in between conditioning the horses for the races,” Komi offered, both of them watching Bokuto approach. 

“It is quite alright, Komi. I’ll teach Bokuto.” 

“Teach me what?” 

“Bokuto, we’re going to teach you to ride horses today after I’m finished training Fukuro. If you could prepare two horses for us in a couple of hours, it would be much appreciated.” 

Bokuto’s face blanched for a moment, then sprung to life with a bright grin and excited gasp. 

“Yes, of course! Akaashi! You would do that?! You would teach me?!” 

“Of course, Bokuto.” 

“No one has ever offered to teach me! Not even Tendou, and he taught me lots of skills,” Bokuto exclaimed, handing the lead rope to Akaashi. 

“Tendou? A former employer of yours?” Akaashi inquired. He still felt he knew next to nothing about Bokuto, and seemed to be learning more about him at every turn. 

“Mhm, Tendou was really nice, kind of strange though.” 

Akaashi didn’t comment his thought on how strange a man _Bokuto_ thought was strange must be. He simply raised his eyebrows at the notion and nodded to Bokuto with a thanks before walking out with the foal. There was still so much to learn about the stablehand. 

The training with Fukuro went by too quickly. Although Akaashi had originally planned to spend only three hours training the foal, he ended up in the pasture with him for nearly six, but the training paid off and Akaashi began to think that Fukuro may actually be ready for mounted training. Time seemed to be passing by much faster than anticipated. 

And Bokuto was watching him the entire time. 

Akaashi couldn’t decide between being concerned that Bokuto should be doing work or flattered in that Bokuto couldn’t seem to take his eyes from him. Between his own observations and Sugawara’s, Akaashi was well aware Bokuto was fond of him, but he had seemingly forgotten exactly how fond in the last couple weeks while he had been unable to work in the pasture around Bokuto. It was endearing. A little unnerving sure, but endearing all the same. 

After Bokuto and Akaashi groomed and set Fukuro to wander the pasture at his own leisure, Akaashi turned to give Bokuto what he hoped was an encouraging smile. He couldn’t seem to dismiss this odd pit in his stomach that teaching Bokuto how to ride horses may end badly. 

“Are you ready, Bokuto? We’ll take it easy today, just learning commands, posture, and walking.” 

“I am so ready, Akaashi!” Bokuto exclaimed. 

At times, Akaashi mused that Bokuto seemed incapable of being nervous. If he hadn’t personally witnessed otherwise, he would have believed it. 

“Alright.” 

*** 

Akaashi’s sides cramped with how much he had tried unsuccessfully to keep himself from laughing every time Bokuto would haphazardly slide off the side of the saddle to land in the grass with a loud pathetic cry. He was _terrible_ at horseback. Every time the horse would turn too quickly for Bokuto, he would seemingly stay put while the horse turned without him and he fell into the dirt. They weren’t even going quickly, just walking around the pasture. 

And Akaashi _couldn’t stop laughing._

Bokuto seemed both bewildered by Akaashi’s sporadic laughter and uplifted by it. Every time he would fall from his horse and begin to deflate or pout, a small contained giggle from Akaashi would brighten him back up. Which was mutually beneficial, seeing as Akaashi felt too giddy to be able to cheer up Bokuto properly every few minutes. 

The ride didn’t last too long. There was only so many times Bokuto could fall from his steed before deciding to try again the following day. Not that Akaashi had been counting, but if he were, he could not have counted on his hands and toes the number of times Bokuto’s rump hit the dirt. 

Akaashi complied, feeling a bit tired as well, and contentedly assisted Bokuto in removing the tack and grooming the horses. While they were brushing the horses, Akaashi listened to Bokuto hum musically. 

“You seem really happy today, Akaashi,” Bokuto stated as he let the horse hoof to the ground and moved to pick up another. 

“I am. I really missed working here with the horses, especially Fukuro and Satou.” Akaashi pet the white mare’s neck affectionately. He kept to himself that he had also missed the company of Bokuto while he worked with the horses. 

Bokuto paused and frowned for a moment. 

“I thought we weren’t supposed to play favorites with the horses,” Bokuto said quietly, and Akaashi quirked an eyebrow at him before Bokuto continued, “Komi said the horses would know and that we shouldn’t pick favorites. Horses have feelings too, Akaashi. They’ll get jealous.” 

Akaashi didn’t know whether to be put out at Komi for lying to Bokuto, or find it absolutely adorable how gullible Bokuto could be at times. Both, probably. 

“Do you have a favorite horse, Bokuto?” 

“Ah!” Bokuto leaned over the horse’s back towards Akaashi with his hand by his mouth to shield the sound from the horse's ears and whispered, “Don’t tell the others, but I like Yoru the best.” He looked completely serious, his eyes sharp and staring into Akaashi. 

“Yoru the black gelding? He is a very calm and quiet one. I would have thought you’d pick a more excitable horse.” 

“Hmm, no I like Yoru the best. He reminds me of you, Akaashi!” 

Akaashi just smiled and fought the blush on his cheeks. Bokuto was always so genuine and shameless. 

They finished the grooming of the horses in near silence with only Bokuto’s songful humming and the sound of brush bristles on fur. Most of Akaashi’s excess energy had been burned off throughout the hours of working with the horses and Bokuto, leaving him content and calm. 

The happiness buzzing just below the surface of that calm permeated through while Akaashi helped Bokuto hang up the saddles in the tack room. It was no longer an overwhelming feeling, but a quiet thrum of contentment. Akaashi felt it was something he could really get used to. He had a feeling the cheerful sounds always coming from Bokuto helped with that as well. 

He felt grateful for his father having hired Bokuto. Sure, Konoha had been a pleasant enough companion throughout the years, but Bokuto brought a sort of unique excitement at even the most menial of tasks. No one could ever replace Konoha for Akaashi, but the same was certainly becoming true for Bokuto. In fact, it may have already developed the first time they had met. It certainly had been a unique introduction. 

If asked, Akaashi never would have anticipated growing so fond of Bokuto’s company. 

In the small tack room filled with the strong smell of leather and hay, Akaashi rested his hand on Bokuto’s shoulder to gain his attention from the saddles. Without a word, he leaned up to press his lips ever so softly to Bokuto’s cheek. It was chaste and brief, but Akaashi’s heart fluttered. A quiet, wordless thanks. 

He paused for a moment to watch Bokuto when he pulled away to see those cheeks flush with heat and mouth gape open. He knew that Bokuto would blush, but even anticipating it was nothing compared to the pleasure of seeing it. Satisfied, Akaashi rested back on the heels of his feet, turning to walk back to the manor with a soft wave. 

Bokuto may have stopped breathing. He didn’t wave back when Akaashi bid farewell for the night. The thought made Akaashi feel empowered and delighted. 

_“See you tomorrow, Bokuto.”_

*** 

Every time Akaashi thought about the brief moment in the tack room, his heart raced and his mind felt fuzzy. It was unlike the fuzziness he had with the concussion, it was warm, tight, and comforting. Bokuto had felt so warm, and the smallest glance as he was leaving told him that Bokuto had been frozen in place, his face flushed red and a palpable, bewildered smile splitting his face. 

Akaashi had never acted so impulsively before. 

So maybe Sugawara was right. Teasing Bokuto yesterday had been perhaps a little too pleasurable, leaving Akaashi in a sort of daze filtered through rose colored glasses. He caught Konoha looking at him rather questioningly when he came into the manor last night, but thankfully he didn’t ask any questions. Akaashi wasn’t sure what he would have said if Konoha _had_ asked. 

With how impulsive and giddy he felt yesterday, he wouldn’t be surprised if he had unceremoniously blurted out the truth. Akaashi always had been rather blunt, and he felt it would be best to keep that particular event from Konoha, given his recently revealed affinity for Akaashi. 

Konoha didn’t have morning tea with Akaashi, instead working away in the kitchen and setting the dining room table with Yukie. Akaashi missed his company, the crude wit and affectionate teasing, but they ate breakfast together as always, and Akaashi ventured back out to the stables to continue training Fukuro and teaching Bokuto how to ride. 

While the previous day Akaashi had been impulsive and energetic, today he went to the stables with a sort of agenda in his grasp. 

In Sugawara’s drunken spiel, he had suggested Akaashi to put keen effort into small movements and gestures, to encapsulate Bokuto’s attention and snare it into his grasp. Bokuto was perceptive, and Sugawara had been absolutely certain that it would be a worthwhile venture. At the time, Akaashi had mused that Bokuto was already enamored by him, but he listened nonetheless. 

So, Akaashi began to pay close mind to the way he moved around Bokuto, always sinuous yet never overt. 

Bokuto never mentioned it, but Akaashi could tell Bokuto had noticed it, the lingering touches Akaashi would apply as he smoothed his hands along his own legs to adjust his riding boots, or the way he pulled the waistband of his riding pants _a little_ too far from his waist when he adjusted them, revealing a pale sliver of skin. 

Of course, always when Bokuto happened to be nearby, and Akaashi would never look directly, only watching from his peripherals as Bokuto would blush and stare with wide eyes. From time to time, Akaashi could ever hear or see a tight swallow. It was empowering. Akaashi had had many suitors in the past, but never had any of them made him feel this desired. He had to work to hide his own mirth. 

Akaashi felt it would begin a routine; training Fukuro in the mornings after breakfast, and teaching Bokuto to ride the horses in the afternoon until dusk with the subtlest flirtatious gestures. They would ride their favorite horses, a white mare named Satou and a dark gelding named Yoru. Akaashi wasn’t brimming with energy as he had been the first day back to the pasture, but he was still merry, coaching Bokuto as he learned to lean with his legs and loosen his hips to move with the horse’s gait. 

And if Konoha was watching every movement, every laugh and flutter of eyelashes from the kitchen window of the manor, Akaashi never saw it. 

Come time for evening tea, Akaashi waited in the study for Konoha, watching Bokuto and Sarukui round up the horses as usual. Even from the second story of the estate, Akaashi could see the flex of muscles in Bokuto’s back and arms, the strain in his thighs as he jogged to catch up with Sarukui. 

Chin in his hand, Akaashi pondered if Bokuto maintained the self-awareness and subtlety to tease the way Akaashi does, if each flex of muscle and graceful yet bouncy movement was a purposeful attempt to gain Akaashi’s attention. 

Of course not. Bokuto had no sense of tact or subtlety, but perhaps that genuine nature and sincerity in all his words and actions was what drove Akaashi to trust him so easily despite still knowing very little of Bokuto’s family or past. If Sugawara was the epitome of spring, Bokuto was the epitome of summer; all strength and heat, relentless yet always true to itself, and full of childish, careless freedom. 

Akaashi remembered the balmy heat of Bokuto’s cheek beneath his lips, plush and heated with flushed skin. Bokuto really was the summertime, always radiating light and warmth into the world around him. With the chilly autumn soon approaching, Akaashi would have to take further advantage of that comforting warmth. 

He watched lazily as Bokuto lifted a bale of alfalfa from the exterior storage and carried it seemingly effortlessly across the pasture back to the stable. Those bales weighed nearly as much as Akaashi. Bokuto could easily lift Akaashi just like that bale of hay, 

hold him up- 

The door the the study clicked open, startling Akaashi, and Konoha walked in with the bronze tray of their evening tea. Akaashi breathed deeply to calm his nerves, greeting Konoha with a calm smile that Konoha returned comfortingly. 

*** 

Akaashi’s cheeks and ears were painted pink. Konoha glanced out of the window where Akaashi had been gazing only a moment ago, and simply needed to see a glimpse of Bokuto outside to know what it was likely from. He returned Akaashi’s smile regardless, and dropped the cube of sugar into Akaashi’s cup to begin their evening tea ritual. 

Konoha strained to keep his emotions in check, to keep everything running smoothly. He had burdened Akaashi enough with them, and petty jealousy would certainly be worse for their relationship than his dubiously innocent affections. He had already resolved that nothing would come from it, to come between them, and he would cherish every moment of friendship he had with Akaashi. 

He pushed the thoughts from his mind and settled for his evening tea with Akaashi. They weren’t speaking much, which was normal, just watching the sunset beyond the window’s glass and sipping their tea quietly. Akaashi finished his first cup, and Konoha filled it dutifully, as always. 

Konoha was just beginning to feel the fog of the day’s exhaustion catching up with him when Akaashi set his cup on the wood of the table with a _clink_ and cleared his throat softly. 

“Konoha, would you bring me the oil from the cupboards before you retire for the night?” 

Konoha blinked. 

_Oil?_

“The oil? I can retrieve it for you. Are you feeling sore again? Perhaps, I could be of assistance.” 

Konoha shamelessly did not want Bokuto involved. He had never gotten the image from his mind of Bokuto sitting on the side of the bed with Akaashi spread beneath his fingertips. It planted a sour pit into his stomach he could never seem to banish. If he could substitute- if he could help Akaashi this time- he would feel all the better for it. 

Perhaps it was selfish, unhealthy for his attempts to avoid or cope with his affinity for Akaashi, but Konoha’s self control has proven to be less than ideal in the past. This was especially true when Akaashi had been involved. 

Akaashi was blushing furiously, and Konoha couldn’t seem to read his expression. It seemed concerned beneath his normal blanket of stoicism. Discomfort perhaps? Maybe the muscle soreness and pain was making him uncomfortable. 

“Ah, sure. That would be helpful, I think.” 

Konoha resisted hollering in excitement. He stood quietly and excused himself to fetch the oil from the cupboards in the downstairs pantry. A little oil goes a long way, so he quickly grabbed the small five ounce glass bottle instead of the large one and hurried back to the stairs. 

He almost couldn’t breathe. Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, he focused on the inhale, held it, and then focused on the exhale to calm his nerves. It was _platonic._ Akaashi was his best friend, his closest companion, and he was going to help him with pain. They grew up together. He had seen Akaashi before, touched him before, although not under such circumstances, and most importantly… 

_Konoha’s affinity was not mutual._

Konoha climbed the stairs slowly, taking his time to prepare mentally. He hadn’t actually expected Akaashi to agree to his offer. He realized this as he knocked softly before creaking the door open to the study. 

Akaashi was sitting in the same place as before, staring out into the darkness outside the window until he heard the door and turned to Konoha. His face was impassive, a stoic expression that turned into a small smile. It was mildly comforting to Konoha, helping him feel less like he was forcing his jealousy fueled perversions on Akaashi. 

They sat in silence, the glass bottle of oil sitting between them on the table while Akaashi finished his tea. The air was stagnant at best, the tension palpable and almost suffocating. Konoha tried to ignore it. He checked the clock on the far wall of the study, recognizing it was only late evening. 

His mind drifted for a moment, brought back when Akaashi’s cup clicked against the wooden table and Akaashi spoke. 

“I appreciate the assistance, Konoha. How should I sit?” 

Konoha flushed, and felt like he was choking. Somehow, he managed an answer. 

“Just… you can sit backwards on the chair, if that’s comfortable. And you’ll likely have to remove your shirt. It will be difficult to perform through the suit jacket.” 

“Of course.” 

Focusing on his breathing was the best Konoha could do to manage his composure. He was certain this wasn’t reality, that Akaashi wasn’t unfastening the buttons to his top to reveal taut skin that he would get to _touch._ Akaashi turned in his chair to straddle it, leaning his arms over the back and resting his head on his arms. 

Konoha immediately fetched him a pillow from his own chair and gave it to Akaashi. Comfort first. Akaashi had to be comfortable. That was what the goal was, not Konoha’s own needs. Akaashi always came first. 

Akaashi murmured a word of appreciation for the pillow and rested it under his arms to buffer between his skin and the wood. 

“Is there a spot of particular importance?” Konoha inquired, “Somewhere I should focus attentions to?” 

“Midway, on the left side is the most distressed,” Akaashi replied calmly. 

_Ah._

Akaashi’s skin was still a sickly yellow there, remnants of the deep bruising from a couple weeks prior. The rest of the bruising had already faded, but the largest and most severe on his ribcage persisted, serving as a reminder to Konoha of when Bokuto had been in a similar position as him. He pushed the thoughts from his consciousness and slathered a small amount of oil on his hands. 

The angle was admittedly a little awkward. Konoha would have rathered Akaashi lay down, but that was not a request he felt safe to make. He kneeled at the foot of the chair, hesitantly pressing his palms to Akaashi’s back. 

_Soft._

Akaashi was so soft, warm, beautiful beneath his fingertips. He admired the divots in muscle, the subtle knobs of his spine along the center, the light freckling on his shoulder blades that Akaashi himself was likely unaware he had. 

Gorgeous. 

Akaashi was gorgeous, perfect in every curve. Konoha’s heart fluttered as he pressed his palms further, massaging his thumbs into the side of Akaashi’s ribs where Akaashi had specified the pain to be most severe. 

Konoha had never touched Akaashi like this, never touched _anyone_ like this. It was too much, too sensual, and he knew Akaashi felt it too. He could see it in the slight furrow in Akaashi’s brow, the hitch of breath when Konoha moved too close to his hips. The oil was slick and warm, and Konoha wanted to desperately to lick up along Akaashi’s skin, to pull him to his chest and never let him go. 

This was a mistake. An incorrigible, undeniable mistake that Konoha felt tightening his chest and leaving him chewing his lip. It only made it more painful, less of a glimpse and more of a detailed analysis of everything he adored and could never have. 

Konoha decided to conclude this as his farewell. 

Farewell to his own feelings, to indulging in his own pining, to indulging in Akaashi. It was agonizing seeing and touching Akaashi, getting the slightest taste only for it to be taken from his tongue while he’s still addicted. He had thought it would be rewarding somehow, but the longer he slid his hands along smooth skin, the more he recognized how self destructive it was. So, he swallowed the clog in his throat, ignored the pit in his stomach, and finished the massage he’d promised. 

Konoha bid Akaashi good night and left before Akaashi had even the slightest chance to redress. There was no wonder of why Akaashi requested to keep the oil for his own use overnight instead of return it to the pantry, no dwelling on events. He practically fled, both from Akaashi and his own self-induced suffering. 

Farewell to his own emotional entanglement. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought!  
> Feel free to bother me on [ Tumblr ](http://foxyena.tumblr.com/) too! 
> 
> And thank you so so much for my dedicated beta readers!!  
> Even when I'm a horrible person who gives you less than 24 hours to edit  
> You still manage it and I love you for it <3 
> 
> Next Time:  
> ~ Sakusa visits the estate  
> ~Konoha makes another horrible mistake


	7. The Foreshock

**[Chapter 7: The Foreshock]**

Bokuto and Sarukui leaned against the gate to the pasture, eagerly watching Akaashi slip his foot into the stirrup and hoist himself up onto the horse’s back gracefully. Akaashi had only been back to training horses for two days since the accident, and Bokuto couldn’t help but remember in painful detail every horrible emotion he felt during the ordeal. He was sure that the sight of those bruises on Akaashi and the spot of blood on the grass would haunt him forever.

Because Akaashi was mounting _Fukuro._ The very foal who kicked and trampled Akaashi. The foal who had been under training for less than a year. Bokuto wasn’t sure how long people normally wait to start mounted training, but he knew they were called green horses and that was very strange. 

He also knew that it felt far too soon for Akaashi to mount Fukuro, but he couldn’t help but wonder why they called the horses green when they hadn’t been ridden yet. It was so odd. The horses were clearly not green. 

Bokuto bit his lip as he watched Akaashi click Fukuro into motion, the horse throwing his head from side to side against the bit and wiggling against the saddle. Akaashi pulled the reins tight on one side to force Fukuro into tight circles, a sort of reprimand for unruly behavior as Akaashi once explained, and straightened back out to walk forward calmly. 

It was impressive how calm and collected Akaashi handled it, although Bokuto was always impressed by Akaashi. 

“He’s so breathtaking, Saru.” 

“You’re going to be pretty hard pressed to find anyone who disagrees with you,” Sarukui laughed, “It seems the closer people become to Akaashi, the more people like him. Just… don’t be like Konoha, okay?” 

“What do you mean?” Bokuto straightened back, leaning off of the fence to look at Sarukui, keeping Akaashi and Fukuro in his peripherals. 

Sarukui sighed and leaned back with his hands on his hips to stare blankly at the ceiling of the stable. There was a troubled expression on his face, almost as if a mixture of exasperation and disgust wrinkling his nose, but his eyes were depressive and pitying. 

“Konoha has admired Akaashi for years-” 

“Yeah but who wouldn’t?” Bokuto interrupted, earning a sharp look. 

“I don’t think he even recognized it at first, and I think Akaashi has been… avoiding considering the topic. He probably doesn’t want to lose Konoha’s friendship, and I’ll bet Konoha is probably self-depreciating and fearing some sort of amercement or something.” 

“Oh.” 

“You don't sound surprised, Bokuto.” 

“I'm not,” Bokuto sighed, “I mean, I'm not blind. I saw the way he looked at me when he walked in on Akaashi and me. It hurt. I mean, not me, I could see how much it hurt _him._ And he kinda grabbed my face in the kitchen once and that was kind of alarming.” 

Bokuto shrugged as if to dismiss the event, still watching Akaashi in the pasture. 

“Wait wait! What do you mean when Konoha caught you? Caught you doing what?” Komi approached, draping over the fence post beside Bokuto to look him in the eye. 

“Oh, um… Back when Akaashi was injured I helped him with stretches and… other activities.” Bokuto flushed at the admittance. In hindsight, it had been more intimate that he had thought it would be. 

Komi and Sarukui raised their eyebrows in curious disbelief, but thankfully didn’t ask him to elaborate. Bokuto wasn’t sure he could make the words leave his lips if he had tried. The amount of time Bokuto had spent laying in bed afterwards just remembering and dwelling on every moment and touch was telling enough. 

Several minutes passed while they watched Akaashi with Fukuro in silence, Bokuto anxiously chewing his bottom lip for every second of it. He couldn’t pinpoint why, but he was feeling rather on edge this morning. He assumed it was because Akaashi was mounting Fukuro for the first time, but even now as the ride went fruitfully the unease Bokuto felt didn’t dissipate. 

“Akaashi has had a lot of suitors,” Sarukui spoke up suddenly, “but none were quite so taking as Sakusa. He was the only one Akaashi allowed to keep visiting, and sometimes he still comes to visit between his business trips.” 

“I don’t like him,” Komi mumbled bluntly, “He’s quite unfavorable.” 

Bokuto frowned. 

“I think I remember Konoha mentioning that name the first day I was here.” 

“Sakusa and Komori visited that day,” Sarukui nodded, allowing the conversation to drop. 

Bokuto allowed himself to become lost in thought, shifting his body nervously every few moments as if he couldn’t sit still and watching Akaashi motion Fukuro into a trot attentively. He couldn’t seem to control his own thoughts as they bounced back and forth painfully between Akaashi’s concussion and what Sarukui and Komi had said about Sakusa. 

He wanted Akaashi to be happy. 

Komi openly stated he didn’t like Sakusa, and Bokuto considered that a significant enough signal that he would likely not enjoy Sakusa’s character as well. If the people he trusted most didn’t like him, it seemed probable that Bokuto wouldn’t like him either. Plus, the idea of seeing Akaashi with someone else was admittedly… painful. 

But Akaashi deserved to be happy. He deserved everything, even if it wasn’t with Bokuto. Bokuto couldn’t help but hope he could be the source instead of Sakusa. 

“Fukuro is doing really well with Akaashi. He’s even getting that floating trot down quite nicely,” Komi practically purred excitedly, and Bokuto was happy for the distraction. 

“Akaashi looks so graceful! I always bump and jostle around so much, I don’t know how Akaashi makes it look so smooth!” 

“Akaashi hasn’t taught you how to post yet?” 

“Post?” 

Komi laughed loudly, “I’ll bet he likes watching you fumble around a bit too much! Posting is when you stand up briefly in rhythm with the horse. That way, you only take roughly half of the impact, and it gives you more control, Bokuto.” 

“You should teach me so I can impress Akaashi!” Bokuto beamed, imagining the admittedly unlikely amount of praise he would get from Akaashi if he could be better at riding horses. 

The thought made him happy. Bokuto loved getting compliments from Akaashi. 

Bokuto was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps on the wood floors behind him. He turned casually to see Konoha escorting two taller men, one with dark features and sharp eyes, and one with a bright smile and short thick eyebrows. The latter looked overtly friendly, and Bokuto found himself grinning back. 

From the corner of his eye, he could see Sarukui and Komi giving a light bow in greeting, addressing the man with a piercing gaze as _Sakusa._

Sakusa didn’t answer them verbally, offering only a quite shallow bow in return. A polite gesture, but formal and detached. It stood in great conflict with the friendly bow and wave from his company who called Sarukui and Komi by name in ecstatic greeting. 

“Bokuto, this is Sakusa Kiyoomi and his right hand Komori Motoya. Sakusa and Komori, this is Bokuto Koutarou, our stablehand who will assist you with any needs you have pertaining to the horses during your visits.” Konoha introduced cooly, and Bokuto thought he sounded notably more formal and composed than he was naturally. 

Despite his discomfort, Bokuto bowed quickly and extended his hand out to shake. It was what he always did when meeting new people, and it seemed rather appropriate. Sakusa didn’t appear to agree, as he stared at Bokuto’s large hand with a subtly crinkled nose. 

“Oh, my apologies!” Komori exclaimed, jumping forward to shake Bokuto’s hand exuberantly instead, “Sakusa prefers an absence of contact, but it is a pleasure to meet you! We were not aware that Akaashi had hired new staff! He hadn’t mentioned it when we met in town a couple weeks ago, so please pardon my curiosity!” 

Bokuto tried not to let the idea of Akaashi having met them in town so recently unbeknowst to him discourage him. It wasn’t his job to mandate who Akaashi could visit, as much as he would prefer Akaashi to spend time with him instead. 

Bokuto smiled widely. He may not care for the cold demeanor from Sakusa, but his companion was everything Sakusa seemed to lack: friendliness, favorable mannerisms, and a willingness to _shake hands with other people._ Never one to judge too much from first impressions, Bokuto only nodded in pretending to understand why Sakusa wouldn’t want to shake his hand and tried not to take offense to it. 

The sorrowful look in Komori’s eye told Bokuto that Komori recognized how Bokuto felt, and that this likely was a common occurrence. At least from that, Bokuto could assume that it was impersonal and just something Sakusa does with everyone. 

“Akaashi is out in the pasture if you would like to follow me through the gate to visit him,” Konoha invited, leaving Bokuto, Komi, and Sarukui to watch as the new company passed them by and ventured into the grass. 

“He’s kind of intimidating,” Bokuto admitted bluntly as soon as he felt Sakusa was out of earshot. 

“Komori makes up for it,” Komi replied, “They work quite well together.” 

They watched as Sakusa, Komori, and Konoha approached Akaashi and Fukuro in the pasture, giving the horse plenty of space just in case. Bokuto wished they were closer so he could hear what they were saying, but watched their expressions carefully. Akaashi was as calm and composed as always, dismounting to politely address his new company on the ground where he wouldn’t be looming above them. 

After a few moments of chatter that Bokuto couldn’t decipher, Komori and Konoha turned to leave, returning to the stables and leaving Sakusa and Akaashi in the pasture. Bokuto still hadn’t pulled his attention from Akaashi as they approached him. 

But he could hear every word they exchanged as they got close, and it almost made him feel sick. 

“Sakusa has been quite taken with Akashi,” Komori chatted happily. 

Bokuto heard Konoha hum in reply, “They are quite stunning together. I think they rather match quite well, and it would be quite the match in estates as well.” 

Komori seemed ecstatic with Konoha’s reply, praising the loveliness of the masters of the estates and commenting on their compatibility until Bokuto forcefully tuned them out. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to consider how confident Komori seemed on Sakusa courting Akaashi, and how he hoped they would soon be _engaged._

“Bokuto,” Konoha called, “Please prepare a horse for Sakusa. They would like to take a leisure ride around the estate.” 

Bokuto resisted the temptation to grumble _take it upon yourself_ and walked out into the pasture to fetch a horse for Sakusa with a polite nod. He could feel himself drooping, his mood plummeting with every step he took to accomodate Sakusa. Realistically, he knew that it was unreasonable, _childish_ even, that Akaashi was fully capable of making his own life choices, of choosing his own partner, but that didn’t mean Bokuto was pleased by it possibly being Sakusa. 

He remembered the way Akaashi had kissed his cheek in the tack room only the day before, the soft look in Akaashi’s eye and the call of his voice as he told Bokuto he would see him the next day. The experience had given Bokuto so much hope. It had been the best thing to have ever happened to Bokuto, and the idea of losing another person so precious to him had his lip trembling between his teeth. 

*** 

“It’s nice to see you again, Sakusa.” Akaashi felt as if he had said this already, several times in fact. 

Sakusa nodded with a soft smile, the type that made Akaashi momentarily forget his mother tongue while they waited for Bokuto to ready a horse. They were standing quietly with Akaashi’s hand grasped around Fukuro’s reins, and his other hand rubbing his thumb with his forefinger. It was small, but with his other hand occupied, it’s all that Akaashi could muster to help ease his nerves. 

Beyond those nerves and the flutter of his heart from his unexpected guest laid a bubbling hot pool of anger spoiling his stomach. But he would address this later with Konoha, after his guests have gone and he could allow his composure to slip even just slightly. For now, he just had to maintain composure while the rage settled for him to seethe out later. 

“You seem to be feeling quite well, Akaashi,” Sakusa commented, “I was worried for your health when we last spoke and you described having such an accident. Daishou asked me just last week if you were feeling better, and I’ll have to be certain relay to him that you seem to be quite well.” 

Akaashi tried not to blush. Somehow even the most simple of comments from Sakusa felt like subtle compliments, as if he were not commenting on Akaashi’s physical health, but instead complimenting his appearance. Perhaps he was. Sakusa was often difficult to read. 

“Daishou inquired upon me? I’m feeling at most myself,” Akaashi replied, “Although certainly of no help to this critter.” 

He patted Fukuro’s neck affectionately, ruffling his mane a bit messily. The foal huffed through his nose as if offended by Akaashi’s implications. 

“A bit unruly then?” Sakusa smiled, “I’m sure you’re more than capable of handling him. Daishou and myself-” 

“Akaashi!!” 

Bokuto jogged up to them with a buckskin gelding in tow, waving broadly. Akaashi could practically feel Sakusa’s discontent from the casual address. For a house staff to address the master of his estate without a proper prefix to the name was admittedly improper, but Akaashi had never cared much for the social formalities. It was something that Sakusa and himself had always been at odds for, as Sakusa had held much more traditional beliefs and mannerisms. 

Generally, Akaashi would just ignore the side glances from Sakusa when a house staff called Akaashi so informally, and he hoped that it was not something of a wall between them. 

“Bokuto,” Akaashi greeted, “Thank you for readying a horse for Sakusa on such short notice.” 

“Of course, Akaashi! Are you sure you want to take Fukuro upon the estate grounds? So soon on his training? Do you think he’s ready? I don’t want you to get hurt again.” 

Akaashi was keenly aware of Sakusa watching the interaction closely, and it made Akaashi intrigued by what Sakusa would think of Bokuto. Akaashi imagined they probably won’t get along at all. In fact, having Bokuto and Sakusa even within such close proximity made Akaashi internally squirm, eager to part ways. Something about the encounter felt wrongful, as if Akaashi felt the need to keep these people in his life separate from one another. 

“Fukuro has done quite well today, so I’m sure it will be fine. If not, Sakusa is here to accompany me, and he can take care of me if such an event were to occur. Thank you for your concern, Bokuto.” 

A sour look crossed Bokuto’s features before he visibly deflated, offering the reins of the gelding to Sakusa with a nod. The depressing pout on Bokuto’s lips made Akaashi want to reach out and touch his shoulder, to offer some small comfort, but he refrained. Bokuto watched as Akaashi and Sakusa mounted the horses, offering a wave to them before they began their ride. Sakusa and Akaashi rode for what Akaashi approximated as nearly a kilometer before Sakusa commented. 

“Your new stablehand is really quite something,” Sakusa remarked, making Akaashi laugh softly. 

_You have no idea._

“You know, that is the very thing I said when I first met him as well,” Akaashi smiled, “He can be quite the character, although impolite and improper at times. Bokuto is a very genuine and sincere man. I don’t think he had much education in his prior situations unfortunately. He grows on you, though, with time.” 

“It’s very kind of you to take him in and teach him.” 

Akaashi hummed, “Konoha has been teaching him table etiquette and I have been training him to ride the horses.” 

“You have been training him? Not a staff?” The corners of Sakusa’s lips turned down ever so slightly into a confused frown. 

“I enjoy working with the horses too much, perhaps.” Akaashi turned to watch his expression carefully, noting the furrowed brow as Sakusa considered Akaashi’s answers carefully. 

“That’s very generous of you,” he stated after a pause. 

“Bokuto is a good person,” Akaashi admitted. It was a true statement, but the outloud admittance of it left Akaashi feeling a little warmer. 

Sakusa answered without missing a beat. 

“As are you.” 

There wasn’t much Akaashi could do to stop the pink that painted his cheeks and ears, so he didn’t try to fight it. He was certain that Sakusa had seen it anyways, if his quiet breath of mirth was anything to go by. 

Akaashi smiled and watched forward as they neared the riverbed. He allowed his mind to wander, to consider the company of Sakusa beside him, the way Fukuro’s ears swiveled attentively to every rustle of bushes or caw of a crow, or to contemplate the ever intriguing character of Daishou. 

Sakusa had briefly mentioned Daishou before, implying that he had spent more time in the man’s company. Previously, Akaashi had thought that Sakusa and Daishou’s relationship seemed to be business oriented despite Komori’s declaration of their connection as good friends, but if they were spending time together more frequently, it seemed reasonable that they actually were more than just friendly associates. 

The way Daishou looked at Akaashi never really seemed to leave him. The way those narrow eyes and wide lips showed such familiarity, claiming to have been acquainted with Akaashi’s family although Akaashi had never heard the name Daishou. Despite Sakusa’s obvious displeasure at the time, the kiss that Daishou left on Akaashi’s hand seemed to burn more in his mind than on his hand. The gesture was improper for a first meeting, especially so since Daishou seemed apparently quite familiar with Sakusa’s affinity for Akaashi. What kind of good friend illustrated such behavior, Akaashi was unsure. 

It left Akaashi intrigued. 

Sakusa was never a particularly chatty society, simply enjoying the other’s presence and pleasant rush of the river beside them. _But, Akaashi was curious._

“Sakusa,” Akaashi began, meeting Sakusa’s eyes as he spoke, “Earlier, you had begun to speak something of yourself and Daishou, and I was rather curious of what you had been intending to speak.” 

Sakusa blinked and Akaashi was certain he had seen the slightest pink to his cheeks. 

“Daishou and myself had been considering sending you a care package. That is what I was going to say earlier, but some unexpected events occurred and we were unable to craft one up for you prior to being able to just visit you. Which I admittedly find acceptable, and hope you do as well, since I prefer your company over sending you a care package.” 

_Oh._

“Of course,” Akaashi confirmed, happy that his composure hadn’t shattered completely, “You are of no requirement to send me anything, and I had begun to ponder when you were going to visit just ereyesterday. Does… Does Daishou inquire upon me often?” 

If Sakusa seemed displeased by Akaashi asking about Daishou, it didn’t show in his expression, but his reply was curt. 

“Relatively.” 

Akaashi took that as a signal to drop the matter, although he found the conversation only left him more curious than when he began. He wondered what Daishou asked Sakusa about him, and why Daishou’s curiosity was not only so prominent but so blatantly shared with his peers. 

They continued their ride in relative silence, enjoying the scenery and allowing the slight tension to wither with time. Daishou stayed as a topic on the forefront of Akaashi’s mind, but he resisted bringing it up again. 

Whether Sakusa was simply put out by Akaashi’s interest in Daishou, although platonic, or there was something about Daishou that Sakusa was unwilling to discuss, Akaashi was unsure. He couldn't help but feel that there was something from the equation he was missing, a piece of puzzle that was vital to comprehending the whole of the picture. He hoped that answers would come in time, respecting Sakusa’s reluctance to discuss the matter. 

Optimistically, Sakusa would return the same respect if he ever were to suspect or inquire upon Bokuto. Or more specifically, how close to Bokuto Akaashi had become. 

It felt like a sort of emotional whiplash. Just the day prior, Akaashi had kissed Bokuto’s cheek, savoring and dwelling on such a small moment with fervency, and now his relationship with Sakusa seemed to be picking up where it had previously left off before Sakusa’s most recent business trip. Sakusa was as polite and complimentary as always, sharp eyes softening when he looked at Akaashi. Something about it felt rather similar to Bokuto, but wholeheartedly different. 

Like a different species with the same genus, Akaashi decided. 

When Fukuro began to act up, wiggling against the saddle again and tossing his head from side to side, Sakusa recommended to allow him a break, as it was his first ride after all. Akaashi agreed, pulling the bit from Fukuro’s mouth so he could graze comfortably while Sakusa did the same with his horse. They rested for probably too long, watching the sky change colors and reflect upon the river. 

“I missed your company, Akaashi,” Sakusa said softly, never looking away from the ripples of the water. 

Akaashi fidgeted with his fingers, a smile on his face but unsure of what to say. Admittedly, he hadn’t thought much of Sakusa while they had been apart as Bokuto and Konoha had been more than enough distraction. But, he did enjoy his quiet time with Sakusa, relaxing and discussing more complex topics during tea or the occasional leisure ride. Even when they only sat quietly to read in the study, Akaashi did enjoy his company. 

He wouldn’t necessarily say he missed Sakusa’s company, but he also could not deny that he rather enjoyed it while he was here. Even if this particular visit had come as a surprise to Akaashi. 

But that was something Akaashi would be discussing with Konoha later. 

“It is good to have your company again,” he said finally, neither confirming nor denying whether or not he missed Sakusa. 

The answer seemed to make Sakusa happy as he let out a small soft laugh, something less of humor and more of relief perhaps, like he had been concerned that Akaashi didn’t share the sentiment. 

“Will you be joining us this evening for supper?” 

Sakusa’s lips pursed, and Akaashi noticed what appeared to be a small dimple in his cheek. It was mildly distracting how he had not yet noticed it before. He watched Sakusa wet his lips with his tongue before he spoke. 

“I’m afraid I cannot stay for supper, however, I would be happy to join you again within the next week if you’ll have me. Or perhaps, you are welcome to visit my estate whenever it pleases you.” 

“Certainly. I suppose we should likely head back to the stables soon then, so you may travel back home in time for your own supper.” Akaashi stood unceremoniously from his seat at the riverbank. 

Sakusa nodded, following Akaashi’s example. As Akaashi turned to walk towards Fukuro who grazed only a few feet away, he felt a familiar brush of Sakusa’s hand at his back, guiding him fondly. It felt somewhere between familiar and intimate, not quite improper for their relationship but also not directly addressed and too close to be a gesture of friendship. 

Akaashi didn’t mind it, not really. It was a bit comforting in a way, gentle and guiding, but not forceful or unrelenting. He was sure if he had requested Sakusa to, he would give Akaashi space. But the contact surely wasn’t tentative. If there was anything Akaashi had learned about Sakusa during their visits, it’s that Sakusa was always confident in his actions. 

That confidence shined when before they parted to their own horses to mount, he felt Sakusa pull him just so slightly closer, almost as if he were tucking Akaashi under his wing by his waist. It was subtle, not enough to cause Akaashi to stumble in his footsteps but enough to be noticed. It felt… protective, as if he were expecting something to take Akaashi away from him. 

Perhaps Akaashi had missed Sakusa a bit. 

*** 

Bokuto was depositing hay for the evening feedings in the stables when Akaashi and Sakusa returned. He had admittedly become rather nervous, chewing at his lip and looking to the door frequently as the sun had come to set. Thankfully, the moon had been set to be high and bright, so even as dusk approached visibility was high. 

He couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief and drop the pitchfork to the floor beside Sarukui to greet Akaashi and help them with the horses. 

“Akaashi! How was your ride?” Bokuto took a moment to bow politely to Sakusa as Sarukui had suggested while they were out, “Let me take the reins for you.” 

He ended up with both of the horses’ reins, but that was fine. Akaashi was back safe and Sakusa was going to leave and then they could have supper together like always. Bokuto tried not to eavesdrop as he tied the horses and removed their tack, but he couldn’t help but hear that Sakusa would be visiting again in less than a week. 

Akaashi seemed happy to have his company, and Bokuto wanted to respect that. He wanted to, but he also couldn’t help the burn in his chest and sour taste in his mouth when he thought about it too much. 

Grooming the horses was noticeably less fun when there were two horses for Bokuto to groom and Akaashi wasn’t there to keep him company. He trudged through the motions, not even making a sound when one of the horses stepped on his foot and leaned their weight against him. He barely flinched. 

When Sakusa left, Komori visited one last time to say goodbye to Bokuto. It was appreciated, and made Bokuto smile just enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes. He liked Komori. Komori was friendly and told funny jokes while Akaashi and Sakusa had been out on their ride. 

It was when they were sitting at the supper table barely a half an hour after their company left that Bokuto noticed something was wrong. Akaashi was a relatively quiet person, usually only speaking when he had something to say and nothing extra, but the sharp gaze and cold frown was new. And they were all pointed at a very specific person. At _Konoha._

Konoha, understandably, was avoiding his eyes, focusing on his food as if he were a shamed child, excusing himself as soon as he was finished in an attempt to flee. When Akaashi finished his food and pardoned himself to head upstairs to his study, Sarukui whistled. 

“I have never seen Akaashi so angry before, especially not at Konoha.” 

“Why is Akaashi so angry?” 

“Konoha didn’t tell Akaashi that Sakusa and Komori were visiting. He was supposed to tell Akaashi ahead of time so that Akaashi could be prepared for having guests,” Komi replied, wincing as Konoha walked past with the bronze tea tray. 

They watched in silence from the dining table as Konoha walked up the stairs with practiced ease despite the wobble of the porcelain kettle, disappearing onto the floor above. The door to Akaashi’s study didn’t necessarily _slam_ but it certainly had not closed softly. Seconds later, Konoha descended the steps empty handed, his hands shoved deep into the pocket of his trousers. 

“He dismissed me,” Konoha mumbled when Bokuto opened his mouth, effectively shutting him up before he had a chance to ask. 

“Akaashi’s never dismissed you before,” Sarukui commented pityingly. 

Konoha didn’t answer, his mouth twisted uglily in thought as he disappeared through the doorway into the corridor towards the staff housing. Right as Bokuto thought Konoha was gone completely, he heard a faint call echoing down the hallway, announcing that he was turning in for the night. 

“Good night, Konoha!” Bokuto called back, although he wasn’t sure Konoha heard it. He had never seen Konoha like this, his shoulders slumped and faced contorted in a fashion that implied he was about to cry. 

Sarukui, Komi, and Bokuto sat in silence for moment listening to the chorus of frogs and crickets just beyond the frame of the house. Bokuto couldn’t stand the tension, but he didn’t know what to do about it, if there was anything he could do about it, so he just sat in silence, watching as Sarukui slowly brought the glass of water to his lips and sighed. 

“It’s quite rare to see Akaashi show emotion like that,” he near-whispered, “Not just because of the strength of it, but also how negative it is. And towards Konoha no less…” 

“Konoha should have known better though,” Komi remarked quietly, “Especially for a suitor like Sakusa. Especially because it was _Sakusa._ Akaashi must have felt to blindsided. I’d be angry too.” 

“Of course you would,” Sarukui chuckled, leaning a soft kiss on Komi’s cheek. 

Bokuto looked away, resting his chin on his hand. For a brief moment he remembered that Konoha had slapped his elbow the last time he put it on the table, but no one was there to reprimand him or care. 

_Maybe tomorrow will be better._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _fore·shock_  
>  a mild tremor preceding the violent shaking movement of an earthquake. 
> 
> Next Time   
> \- Something Life Changing  
> \- Old friends, old habits  
> -Once lost, it can never be taken back


	8. Familial Earthquake

**[Chapter 8: Familial Earthquake]**

Akaashi felt absolutely livid when he had taken to bed, and woke up just as upset. It was a foreign feeling to be angry at Konoha, and Akaashi did feel remorse for the other house staff who had to suffer through their tense, curt interactions, but Akaashi _knew_ Konoha did it on purpose. 

In all the years Akaashi had known Konoha, he had always had a nearly infallible memory. Something as substantial as Akaashi’s primary suitor visiting would not have escaped his memory as he had lamely claimed. The way he had avoided Akaashi’s gaze and had no defense for Akaashi’s quiet accusations in the study had been proof enough. Akaashi wasn’t even certain he wanted to know why Konoha had chosen to have Sakusa’s visit a surprise. He wasn’t going to ask, either. 

Dismissing Konoha from their evening tea had been admittedly excruciating. It took all of Akaashi’s self control to maintain his composure, to keep from crying himself as he watched Konoha leave with a polite bow and the slightest sniffle nearly masked entirely by the click of the door pulling shut. They may not be intimate partners, but it certainly hurt as if they were. 

It had stung like a form of petty betrayal. 

To say that his evening tea had been a lonely experience would have been an understatement. He had only stared beyond the windowpane, seeing nothing but the confines of his mind filled with bitter anger and pain. His tea had gone unfinished and cold on the counter when he finally wandered to his quarters for bed. 

Even if he had never yelled at Konoha, and maybe his emotions were just, it hurt to see Konoha wide eyed with shock when Akaashi reprimanded him and dismissed him for keeping Sakusa’s visit from him. It was devouring him inside, but he also couldn’t bring himself to dampen the fire of his anger enough to apologize yet. Later, perhaps. 

Breakfast managed to be even more severe of an ordeal than supper had been. Even Bokuto spoke only rarely, and the air of bitter outrage had shimmered out into a tense atmosphere of the depressive clink of silverware on the porcelain plates. More than once, Akaashi saw Komi give him a sort of pitying look, as if he had the power to fix the situation but didn’t blame him for not doing so. 

It was comforting, kind of. A slight validation of his feelings, perhaps. 

Akaashi drank his morning juice slowly, his appetite diminished from the sour pit in his stomach, and soon enough sat at the table in a sort of solitary after everyone else had left to accomplish chores or attend duties. Konoha assisted Yukie cleaning in the kitchen, Bokuto and Sarukui to the stables, and through the window Akaashi could see flashes of Komi conditioning one of the race horses for an upcoming endurance race. 

When the courier arrived, Suzumeda answered the door politely, and Akaashi thought it was rather soon for another letter from Sakusa. He thanked her for giving him the letter and dismissed her with as much as smile he could manage. It probably wasn’t convincing, but the effort was there. A quick look at the formal stationary and Akaashi sliced open the envelope with a silver letter opener and unfolded the paper carefully. 

_To the Master Akaashi Keiji of the Akaashi Estate,_

_I write to inform you of the most dreadful of circumstances in which Masters Toroko and Taeko Akaashi have come to be in my care. In the unjust rouse of their carriage only a day ago, Taeko has maintained injury of critical condition and Toroko just this morning has passed._

_Attached you find the address of my workings, in which I implore you to visit as soon as you are able. I offer my deepest condolences and will improve her condition however I am capable._

_Best Regards,_

_Doctor Iwaizumi Hajime_

_Physician of Internal Medicine_

Akaashi stared at the letters scrawled upon the paper for an indeterminable amount of time. He couldn’t decide if he was feeling sick or panicked, or both, and was visibly shaking when he stood awkwardly from the chair. Nevermind his upset with Konoha, he nearly sprinted to the kitchen, swinging haphazardly around the doorframe and nearly slamming into Konoha himself. 

“Akaashi?” Konoha asked with wide eyes, his gaze flickering back and forth between Akaashi’s face and the letter crumpled in Akaashi’s grasp. 

“We need to visit Iwaizumi immediately. Call for Washio to prepare a carriage and I will meet you outside, understand?” 

“Ah, yes? Are you okay?” 

Akaashi chewed his lip anxiously and let out a dry mirthless laugh. 

“Debateable.” 

Konoha was kind enough during the ride to Iwaizumi’s medical office in town not to ask any further questions, but his curiosity and concern was blatant in his expression. He didn’t even comment on Akaashi’s leg that bounced furiously the entire ride or his bottom lip that stayed pinched beneath his teeth in worry. 

Honestly, he wasn’t very close to his parents, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care nonetheless. Maybe he cared a bit too much for people who rarely gave him the time of day and treated him only with formal aloofness, but it wasn’t something within his control. And most importantly, it wasn’t something he was going to allow to consume his thoughts at the moment. 

They arrived at only half past nine in the morning, the horses hoofing impatiently at the dirt while Akaashi jumped from the carriage without waiting for Konoha to give him a hand like usual. Iwaizumi’s medical office was a bit on the small side, painted white with gardens of modest vegetables and herbs instead of a lawn and a startlingly bright teal door. 

Akaashi was reaching for the handle of the door when it swung open before he could grasp it. For a moment he stared at the person on the other side, recognizing curiously that it was _Daishou_ and wondering why he was there, before excusing himself politely and slipping past through the doorway. 

He would allow himself time to consider why Daishou was at Iwaizumi’s medical office another time. For now he rushed forward towards the only person in his eyesight who might be able to point him in the right direction. 

“Pardon me,” the man gave Akaashi a sad knowing look, “I was called upon by Doctor Iwaizumi. Can you escort me to him perhaps?” 

The man gave a soft pitiful smile. 

“You must be Akaashi Keiji then. I’m Yahaba. Iwaizumi is just beyond this door. Please, follow me.” 

The walk was uncomfortably quiet, as if Yahaba was conscientious of the tense nature and didn’t want to make it worse with small talk. It was appreciated, though it meant the only sounds left to hear were Akaashi’s heart beat in his ears and the echo of footsteps down the short hallway. Konoha was following very close behind them, his footsteps a shadow of Akaashi’s own. 

They stopped in front of an unmarked door, and Yahaba shot him a small sad smile before rapping on the wood softly. The door opened slowly to a tall man with dark curly hair and glasses removing gloves with a worrying amount of blood on them. Akaashi could feel his heart pump furiously, and he breathed deeply to try to control the panic. He didn’t want to cry in the middle of the medical office. Or at all, preferably. 

“Matsukawa,” Yahaba spoke with a hint of surprise, “Is Iwaizumi available? Akaashi Keiji has arrived.” 

Matsukawa’s eyes flicked from Yahaba to Akaashi, and he licked his lips with a sigh. 

“Iwaizumi is available, yes. I would… watch where you step, if you please.” 

Matsukawa stepped to the side of the door, watching them pass as Yahaba lead them through what appeared to be a surgical room and into an adjoining corridor. The smell was admittedly metallic, and while Akaashi was not particularly squeamish, the thought of who it may belong to left his head spinning. It was mostly clean, but small speckles of red on the floor and smear that looked like someone had recently been attempting to clean it up hinted that this was obviously not always the case. 

When Yahaba turned abruptly to enter a room that had been marked _Morgue_ in large clear lettering, Akaashi felt sick. His mouth was suddenly dry and his stomach full of acid. It was no surprise when Konoha mentioned with a tight voice that he would wait for Akaashi just outside of the door. Konoha was rather squeamish after all. 

Iwaizumi was covering someone with a thin white sheet, and Akaashi tried not to look at it. 

“Akaashi,” he greeted coolly, nodding to Yahaba in thanks and dismissal, “I...hope your trip fared well.” 

Akaashi didn’t answer. Words proved unfortunately uncooperative, so he just waited for Iwaizumi to continue. 

“She passed this morning.” 

Admittedly, Akaashi had kind of figured this as soon as they walked through the surgical room and towards the morgue. That didn’t make it any easier to hear, and Akaashi breathed slowly in attempt to maintain his composure. He was certain that Iwaizumi could see right through it forever, and the trembling of his hands and voice were a dead giveaway. 

“Thank you… for taking care of them.” 

His own voice felt distant and cold, but the underlying tremor had Iwaizumi lifting his eyebrows towards his hairline. Akaashi couldn’t move, was unsure if he could really speak much more than that, but Iwaizumi didn’t ask him too. Iwaizumi likely dealt with similar situations before. 

“Would you like to see them?” 

_“No.”_ Akaashi choked, surprised at his own answer. 

He chewed his lip and waited for Iwaizumi to recommend him to do otherwise, to say that he needed to confirm identities, _anything,_ but nothing came. Akaashi hadn’t realized he had scrunched his eyes shut, averting his gaze from Iwaizumi’s, until he felt Iwaizumi’s warm palm on his shoulder. His gaze was soft, eyes comforting and understanding when Akaashi looked into them. 

“I will contact you again when funeral preparations are finished. It can be anticipated to take a couple days. In the meantime, please do not hesitate to contact me if you need anything, Akaashi. Yahaba and Konoha are waiting just outside the door with Matsukawa. They can escort you back out to your carriage. Please, take care.” 

There was no condolences, no _sorry for your loss,_ just a comforting hand on Akaashi’s shoulders and the facts he absolutely needed to know. Akaashi found he preferred it this way. If Iwaizumi had apologized, as if Akaashi’s being orphaned was any problem of his, Akaashi would have fallen to his knees on the floor in an instant. 

Instead, he swallowed back the acidic vice in his throat and smiled a small _thank you_ to Iwaizumi before turning to leave without another word. He heard Iwaizumi shuffle back to the body beneath the sheet, his mother probably, and Akaashi was happy to have the attention away from him. 

The carriage ride home was deafeningly quiet, Akaashi’s ears buzzing. All of the cold rage he had felt just last night and this morning hollowed into empty grief. His world was spinning but he couldn’t seem to pinpoint his thoughts to anything specific, watching the scenery pass throught he window of the carriage with apathy. 

*** 

Konoha watched Akaashi shrink within himself further as every clop of the horse’s hooves hit the dirt. When Akaashi had demanded him into the carriage without a cause, he had been scared for himself, for whatever blind rage Akaashi had been feeling this morning turned to frantic panic, and he had not considered what they were traveling to Iwaizumi’s for. 

Akaashi hadn’t told him anything, hadn’t let him read the letter from Iwaizumi or offered any explanation, but it wasn’t his place ask, only to assist in any way he could. Standing outside the morgue door had drawn all question and doubt from his mind, unable to pass through that doorway with Akaashi. He hoped that Akaashi would prefer to be alone with Iwaizumi anyways. 

But somehow the carriage ride home felt worse than any other moment of the journey. Walking past Matsukawa and eyeing the spots of blood on Matsukawa’s clothes and smeared across the floor, facing the morgue door and waiting with Yahaba had paled in comparison to the pain of watching Akaashi pull away from the world around him. 

There hadn’t been a single word spoken between them, and when they arrived back to the estate, Konoha buffered staff from Akaashi, recommending to give Akaashi space. He hoped this was what Akaashi needed, what would help him, but there was no acknowledgement or even a pause in Akaashi’s steps as he moved mechanically up the stairs to his own quarters. Konoha didn’t follow. He had a feeling Akaashi needed alone time to process. 

Konoha ached to help. He would do anything to sweep the shards of Akaashi’s sanity from the floor and help him put the pieces back together. But every time considered talking to Akaashi, of approaching him with the unbridled support he knew Akaashi would need, he remembered the cold glares and the hurt he had caused with Sakusa. Konoha wanted to help, but he felt that after what he had done just before this, Akaashi wouldn’t want anything Konoha had to offer. 

He couldn’t blame him, and although it hurt when he thought about it, he knew his own small feelings were nothing to the cacophony that must be swirling inside of Akaashi. 

After all, Akaashi was the sole master of the estate, orphaned with only his own staff and no familial connections. 

A second letter was received only two days later from Iwaizumi, a notification that the elder masters Akaashi were prepared for burial. They went through the motions of a funeral, taking pictures and listening to soft words spoken as the caskets were lowered together, side by side into the ground. Akaashi has barely spoken one coherent sentence in three days, and Konoha was beginning to worry more. 

What concerned him most is that Akaashi had no longer been moving through the motions back at the estate. He hadn’t visited the stables in days, Fukuro’s training at a standstill, and he spent all of his time beneath his father’s pear tree, beneath Akaashi’s favorite tree. Akaashi offered only small nods of thanks, an occasional word if necessary, and barely consumed anything at any meal. 

Konoha shared concerned glances with Bokuto, but neither of them dared speak up. Akaashi had not looked at either of them in days, as if meeting the eyes of another person would crumble him from the fragile precipice he had balanced himself upon. 

Konoha tried to understand. When his parents had passed years ago, he had leaned upon Akaashi, took refuge in their friendship in his time of weakness. But Akaashi shared no such sentiments, hiding his grief behind lock and key at the sacrifice of the freedom of his own closure. He was an empty shell, no outward emotions and hiding his eyes from anyone who sought them in the event that just a peek of his soul through those windows would release the floodgates. 

Perhaps a release of such floodgates would be the catalyst for Akaashi to process his feelings. 

Akaashi wasn’t allowing visitors to the estate. A week had passed and on day four Sakusa and Komori had visited briefly to offer condolences and care packages. Konoha had sat and enjoyed painfully awkward tea with them, not wanting to shove them away after they had taken such a journey to arrive there, but he could see the pain in Sakusa’s heart when he told them that Akaashi was not fit for guests. Sakusa had excused them and left shortly after, although Konoha was sad to see him go. Something within him had been hoping that Sakusa would find a way to draw Akaashi from his shell. 

Not that Akaashi hadn’t made himself scarce. 

On the ninth day, Konoha sent a desperate letter to Sugawara. He was willing to face Akaashi’s upset at him inviting guests against Akaashi’s request. If it meant Akaashi beginning the healing process, he was willing to do it. 

Sugawara arrived the next day, a worrying amount of whiskey in his hands just like last time, although he emitted less thrill at the visit and there was no Yaku to accompany them. He escorted Sugawara to the pasture where Akaashi sat beneath the pear tree, a near permanent fixture in the grass as of late. With a bow, he dismissed himself before Akaashi could have the chance, leaving the two of them to sit in the shade of the tree. 

If anyone could find a way to help Akaashi crawl out from under this avalanche of grief, it would the sunny Sugawara. 

*** 

Keeping a concerned eye on Akaashi in the pasture had become like Bokuto’s second job. None of the other staff had explicitly stated so, but Sarukui and Komi would ask soft questions about how Akaashi fared that day. They knew Bokuto would watch over Akaashi regardless if they asked him to or not, so he was considered reliable for the job. 

Sometimes Bokuto would feel waves of nostalgia at watching Akaashi in the pasture. He sat in the same place he had been when Akaashi had met him the first day he had arrived, his back leaned against the bark of the pear tree. There was no small book like there was before, only Akaashi’s eyes glazed over as they stared out into nothing. If he hadn’t known any better, Bokuto would have thought that Akaashi was watching the horses, but he knew how it felt to feel far away from yourself. 

Bokuto missed riding the horses with Akaashi, missed the smile and giggles that Akaashi would give when Bokuto fell off the horse into the dirt or that time he fell into the bushes in the garden. Akaashi hadn’t smiled in days, hadn’t spoken to Bokuto or even looked his way. It was difficult to Bokuto not to become dejected, to remember that it wasn’t personal, that Akaashi just needed _something._

Something that Bokuto couldn’t give, like his family back. 

But Bokuto could give comfort, could give Akaashi someone to lean against, he just didn’t know how to approach him when Akaashi seemed to be doing all within his power to avoid all living creatures. 

Bokuto couldn’t help but feel a little bitter when Konoha brought Sugawara. He wanted to be the one to approach Akaashi, to show him how to feel again, to show him that life goes on after such loss. He stuffed the envy down and swallowed it back bitterly. What mattered most was that Akaashi was at least looking at someone, interacting with them, _healing._

And drinking, apparently. _A lot._ Which Bokuto supposed he shouldn’t expect any less from Sugawara. 

Bokuto saw Konoha watching from the kitchen window of the estate. Their eyes met briefly, but Bokuto felt nothing of it. It wasn’t unexpected. 

He watched as Akaashi finally fell apart, finally cried on the tenth day, enveloped by Sugawara and drowning his emotions in drink. The world seemed too bright for what he was watching, no stereotypical rain or heavy clouds, and the twitter of birds offsetting Bokutos’s comfort. But Akaashi was feeling again, letting himself be held up by another person, and Bokuto knew from experience that this would be the first step. 

Sugawara stayed at the estate for a couple days. It was a little odd but pleasant nonetheless to have Sugawara at the breakfast table in the mornings and taking walks with Akaashi along the estate grounds. Bokuto was happy to hear Sugawara’s laugh on the final day and see just the smallest of smiles from Akaashi. It wasn’t much, something more out of being polite than actual humor, but it was nice to see Akaashi show any expression. Bokuto thought that maybe Akaashi would return to himself soon, even if only a little. 

Akaashi still hadn’t talked to Bokuto. Thirteen full days where Bokuto missed the company, the voice, and the radiance of the person he held most precious. He could feel himself slowly deflating over time, his mood drooping and his work pace slowing noticeably. Bokuto bit his lip and thought only of Akaashi, wondering when he could be of help, when he could do something to make Akaashi be as beautiful as he used to be. 

Bokuto liked to think to himself that Akaashi was always beautiful, but it just wasn’t realistic. A part of him recognized it as he saw the shallow dark circles around Akaashi’s eyes and lethargic mannerisms. He shoveled hay into the stalls and thought about Akaashi’s smile, the warmth of his lips all those weeks ago, of his wit and the cute way he fumbled with his fingers. 

He missed Akaashi’s happiness and his health, and wanted to bring it back. 

Bokuto shoveled scoop of hay after scoop of hay into each stall, pausing to greet each horse as he passed. It was a ritual he rather enjoyed. What was not a part of the ritual was for Akaashi to be in one of the stalls, his forehead pressed to Fukuro’s neck and back trembling. Bokuto froze when he saw, pitchfork suspended midway through the air and straws of hay falling to the floor. 

“‘Kaashi?” 

Akaashi turned to look at Bokuto slowly, as if he wasn’t surprised to have Bokuto there, his eyes were red and puffy and nose sniffling. He turned away after the briefest glance, pressing his face back into Fukuro’s mane. Bokuto set the pitchfork by the door of the stall, hesitantly creaking the gate open to slip in. He had never seen Akaashi cry before, and it was both heartbreaking and intimidating. 

Crying was better than the hollow, apathetic distance that left chills up Bokuto’s spine, though. 

“I’m sorry,” Akaashi whispered, almost inaudible and muffled when Bokuto got close, “for neglecting you and your training, Bokuto… for being unsightly and distant… for...” 

Bokuto didn’t know how to answer. He wanted to deny it. He hadn’t been neglected. It left him chewing on his bottom lip and licking it soothingly. He couldn’t blame Akaashi for withdrawing, but that didn’t mean he didn’t spend every minute missing Akaashi. Bouto would never hold him accountable for it, would never be upset at Akaashi, but he missed his company terribly. 

But Bokuto remembered when he had lost, when Tendou had comforted him without words and without complaint. It had helped, and it was the least Bokuto could do for Akaashi. He wished he could do more, but words escaped him and he just wrapped his arms around his shoulders and held tight. No matter how cold and distant and hurt Akaashi had been lately, his body was still warm, still pliant and trembling with each muffled sob into Fukuro’s neck. 

Bokuto didn’t try to count the minutes Akaashi cried in the stall. When Akaashi would apologize again and again, Bokuto would promise him every time that he was just happy to see Akaashi again, happy to help Akaashi in any way he could. Admittedly, he probably was holding Akaashi too tightly, afraid if he let go that the pieces Sugawara had begun to place back together would fall back into the abyss of Akaashi’s grief. 

Slowly, Akaashi’s breathing began to slow, his sobs quieting and the trembling becoming subdued and sporadic. When Akaashi shifted, Bokuto reluctantly released him, stepping back to let Akaashi breathe and resisting the temptation to rub his hands up and down Akaashi’s arms in affectionate comfort. 

“I’m sorry, Bokuto,” Akaashi murmured again, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand. 

“Yer fine, Akaashi,” Bokuto felt like he was pleading, “I know what it’s like, you don’t have to pretend you’re okay. I know it hurts.” 

“It doesn’t make sense.” 

Bokuto frowned. He thought crying and being upset over losing family seemed to make plenty of sense. When Bokuto didn’t answer, just watching Akaashi carefully, he continued. 

“I wasn’t close to them. I don’t understand why I’m so upset about it.” 

Akaashi’s voice was trembling, and Bokuto stepped forward to invite Akaashi to his embrace again. This conversation was hitting a bit close to home for Bokuto, and he found himself relieved when Akaashi accepted the invitation. He needed the comfort too. 

“They’re your parents,” he stated quietly, “It doesn’t matter if they were there or not. You don’t get any more of them, and that’s why it hurts. No matter how many father or mother figures you have, you only get one set of biological parents.” Bokuto explained and realized he felt more like he was discussing himself. 

They were quiet for a moment, letting Akaashi consider what Bokuto said carefully. 

“You didn’t know yours, then,” Akaashi stated, not a question or inquiry, just a statement of confirmation. Bokuto nodded. 

“I kind of knew them, I mean,” Bokuto rubbed Akaashi back and chewed his lip, never having discussed this with someone. He couldn’t seem to look in one place and stay there, “I met them once. They weren’t very nice. They said they couldn’t raise a child like me, someone with genes like mine as if the genes weren’t theirs to start. But they’re gone now, and sometimes I kind of like my hair so… it’s fine.” 

Fine was a relative term really. He remembered the hours he spent curled up in his bed crying, wishing anything for his life to be different, for his family not to end up the way it was. But Kuroo and Tendou made it sufferable, reminding him that he could create his own family. Then Tendou left, traveling across the land to places Bokuto didn’t want to follow, leaving him with Kuroo, Fukunaga, Yamamoto, and Kai. It wasn’t a biological family, but it was a family. 

“We’re your family too, Akaashi,” Bokuto confirmed out loud, both for himself and Akaashi, “Konoha and Saru and Komi and Yukie and Suzumeda and me.” 

“Thank you,” Akaashi replied softly, “I feel there is yet so much we don’t know about you. I didn’t know you were orphaned, Bokuto. Do you ever… think about seeing your parents?” 

_No._

Bokuto resisted saying that out loud, pulling Akaashi tighter and ignoring the hitch of breath as Akaashi struggled to breathe in Bokuto’s embrace. 

“I can’t,” Bokuto paused, but Akaash didn’t speak, “I can’t see them. I don’t want to anyways, but I can’t. I can’t even live in their house anymore. Kuroo lives there, he takes care of everything and Fukunaga and Yamamoto and Kai, but I can’t live there anymore. Kuroo said it’s not good for me.” 

The conversation seemed to die, Akaashi uncomfortably quiet. Bokuto wanted to say he was sorry, sorry for pushing his past on Akaashi, for talking about himself when Akaashi needed him, sorry for not being more than what he was, but he kept quiet. 

“It’s okay, Bokuto,” Akaashi reassured finally, “You don’t have to. You can stay here where we like your hair anyways.” He could hear the small smile in Akaashi’s voice, eagerly pulling back to look at him properly. 

It was small, but it was there. It was a smile that Bokuto hadn’t seen in what felt like weeks. 

Bokuto’s selfish rant about his past hadn’t upset Akaashi further, hadn’t made Akaashi upset that he had talked about himself when it should have been about Akaashi. Akaashi still looked like a mess, his eyes irritated and red, dark bags beneath his eyes and lips chapped, but the small curve of lips gave Bokuto hope. 

“Your family is here at the estate,” He claimed strongly, “And so is mine. That’s what matters.” 

“What about Kuroo?” 

Bokuto pouted. 

“And of course Kuroo! You should meet him soon. He’s great! But of course… whenever you’re ready.” 

Akaashi hummed, “Thank you.” 

Before Bokuto even thought through his actions, he leaned forward just slightly and left a brief kiss on Akaashi’s forehead. It was tender, chaste, but Akaashi was staring at him with wide eyes and pink cheeks all the same. 

Bokuto coughed awkwardly and watched as Akaashi brushed his jacket and trousers down with his hands as if to rid it of dirt that wasn’t there. 

*** 

Akaashi felt disgusting. Not in a physical way or in the way of an illness, but in the way that guilt and regret devoured his humanity until he vomited it up over his evening tea with Konoha. Evening tea that he hadn’t enjoyed in weeks, especially with the society of any person. 

What Bokuto told Akaashi was comforting. It wasn’t enough to pull him completely from his nightmarish reverie but it was enough for him to realize what he had been subjugating his staff to. Truthfully, he had consoled in Fukuro for the sole purpose of finding Bokuto in the stables, and was thankful that Bokuto had spent the time to share with him and let him indulge in his comfort. 

Bokuto does give excellent hugs after all, although the forehead kiss was unexpected. Unexpected, but not wholly unwelcome. 

Konoha seemed to be a mixture of stunned and relieved when Akaashi asked him to stay for tea. When Konoha walked into Akaashi’s study with a soft knock on the door and the familiar bronze tray of tea in is grasp, it was painful. A kind of pleasant pain that reminded him both of the thousands of evenings they spent having tea together and also what he had been skipping for the last two weeks. If Konoha felt similar, he didn’t show it, following the routine of stirring the cube of sugar into Akaashi’s tea with the clink of silver spoons on porcelain. 

He acted almost like no time had passed at all. 

They sat in silence sipping their tea and watching out the window as if Akaashi hadn’t just experienced the worst two weeks of his life. Two weeks he could honestly barely remember, having spent the majority of the time within the recesses of his mind. 

Akaashi set his tea onto the tabletop, folding his hands into his lap where he could compulsively run his fingers along one another. Konoha was watching him like he always had, sharp eyes attentive and compassionate. He knew Akaashi was meaning to speak, and waited patiently for it. It was appreciated. 

“I am sorry, Konoha… for… being unsightly.” 

Konoha’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, his eyes wide and he almost dropped his cup when he attempted to place it down on the table. 

“You… what?” 

“I’m sorry,” Akaashi repeated, a little stronger the second time, “for my behavior.” 

Konoha went from expressing shock to indignance, almost outright anger. 

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for. What happened… none of it is your fault and you’ve certainly handled it much fairer than I would have, than I _did._ I’m sorry that I kept Sakusa’s visit from you, and even worse that I tried to lie and keep my motivations from you. You did nothing wrong. You’ve never done anything wrong.” 

Akaashi stared at him for a moment, unsure how to respond. He felt he should be most taken aback, more invested in his own conversation that he began, but his emotions still felt distant and muffled as if they were smothered beneath a down feather pillow. Bokuto and Sugawara had been able to pull him from his knees to his feet, but walking wasn’t quite a manageable feat quite yet. 

“I…” Akaashi took a deep breath, “Why did you hide Sakusa’s visit from me?” 

It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to ask, but Akaashi didn’t seem to have complete control over himself. Words just poured from his mouth at their own will, his emotions dimmed and inhibitions nonexistent. 

“I don’t have an answer for that.” 

Akaashi didn’t think that made much sense but he wasn’t going to inquire further. He felt exhausted, though his body felt restless from having not worked with the horses for two weeks and just sitting beneath a tree. Nodding at Konoha, he sipped his tea again, hoping to finish it quickly so he could lay in bed and try not to think anymore. 

Not that his mind seemed to want to listen to him anymore. He thought about his conversation with Bokuto in the stall, about Bokuto pouring about his home and his family. Akaashi wanted to know more. They way Bokuto had claimed he couldn’t visit his parents had such a tone of finality to it, and how Bokuto stated that he lived in his parents home, Akaashi could only assume that he really _couldn’t._

His parents were probably dead like Akaashi’s. 

The thought made Akaashi feel sick, setting the cup back down again and raising a hand to signal to Konoha not to refill it. It was good he had too, since Konoha had already picked up the kettle and readied to pour. So attentive as always. 

“Konoha,” Akaashi worried his bottom lip between his teath for a moment, “Did you know that Bokuto is an orphan?” 

“I had no idea.” 

Akaashi hummed, “Neither had I.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chat with me on [Tumblr! ](http://foxyena.tumblr.com)  
>  Next Time   
> -Riding Again  
> -Homely Comforts & Indulgences  
> -Akaashi does something stupid. Oops.


	9. Comfort Indulgences

** [Chapter 9: Comfort Indulgences] **

Bitter wasn’t exactly the term Akaashi would describe feeling when Bokuto managed to coerce him into riding Fukuro again. Truthfully, he still felt as if the volume of his emotions was dialed down to a murmur, so bitter would have been too strong a word. If he were to pick a word to describe the shadow of the emotions he felt, it would likely be _relief._

Sugawara and Bokuto had worked so fruitlessly to pick him back up again. It left Akaashi feeling insignificant, unworthy of their efforts, since they seemed all in vain but for the brief moments after they occurred. But those moments afterwards were like desperate gasps for fresh air above the putrid water he was drowning in, so Akaashi shamelessly sought them out time and time again. 

They rode out across the estate, Bokuto’s first ride outside of the fenced in pasture and among the gardens and river. They didn’t speak much. Akaashi was appreciative that Bokuto seemed conscientious that Akaashi still wasn’t cohesive enough to maintain conversation when he didn’t have to. 

It seemed that with the walls of Akaashi’s previous inhibitions decimated by his grief, Bokuto held a similar lack of reservations. Akaashi would let himself worry about it later, maybe in one of those brief moments post comfort where he felt a bit at his normal wits. 

Or maybe never at all. 

Because indulging in Bokuto’s comfort had become somewhat normal, a sort of unspoken routine that Akaashi would seek out Bokuto in the stables, request the preparation of a ride and his company. They would ride together around the pasture, not really conversing, but Bokuto’s presence was comfort enough. In the tack room, when they hung up the bridles and saddles, Bokuto would hold Akaashi. Sometimes Akaashi would cry, sometimes not. 

But it was always worth it to get that small gasp of fresh air, the briefest reprieve from the smothering blanket of grief that depressed Akaashi. 

Bokuto never asked questions, never pushed Akaashi or asked more of him than he could provide. When Akaashi asked to sit beside the river, to let the horses graze on the grass and watch the ripples of the water, Bokuto agreed without question. And when Akaashi crawled into his lap to stifle empty tears in Bokuto’s jacket, he never said a word but for soothing comments Akaashi desperately wanted to believe. 

In moments of clarity, Akaashi would recognize that Bokuto’s lack of conversation was uncharacteristic, that maybe Akaashi’s own emotions and dependence on Bokuto was smothering him, but he felt powerless to fight it. He knew there was a possibility that he was simply using Bokuto in his time of weakness. Bokuto’s comforting society was the only fix keeping Akaashi from falling apart completely. If he let it slip between his fingers, he would slip along with it. 

It was early autumn, Akaashi’s favorite time of the year, and he used the chill in the air as excuse enough to allow himself to seek out Bokuto more often. Not that anyone ever seemed to question or inquire upon Akaashi’s dependence on the stablehand. Konoha never asked, never mentioned it when he would find them with Akaashi’s eyes swollen, his gaze empty and desolate and Bokuto’s palm rubbing analgesic patterns on his back. 

People would arrive on occasion to the estate, associates of his late father who now required Akaashi to resume the work of their company. He would entertain them, listen to the business they spoke of and make recommendations. Some of them were understanding of Akaashi’s predicament, and some were less so. When required, Konoha and Akaashi would travel to discuss or overview their assets, and Akaashi would always arrive home even more empty and exhausted than he thought reasonable. 

Bokuto always seemed to know when Akaashi needed him most. He would just appear, never judgemental, always with a soft smile and warm arms to hold Akaashi together. It was warm, comforting, and dependable. Akaashi mused that this could become addictive. 

Assuming Akaashi hadn’t already become engulfed by it. 

*** 

Contrary to popular belief, Bokuto wasn’t stupid. 

If there was anything that Bokuto recognized and comprehended completely, it’s emotions. Specifically, he knew exactly how it felt to succumb completely to them, to allow them to overrun his thoughts and feel helpless to them. He had been consumed by them when Akaashi was hurt, and he knew that Akaashi was suffering the same. 

It reminded him of his own parents passing, and how he had curled into the mattress for days. Akaashi was still going through the motions, eating and engaging when necessary, which Bokuto found stronger than when he had been consumed by his own grief. It had taken Tendou and Kuroo four days to pull Bokuto from his bed, to bathe him and force him to eat and become a person again. 

Even in Akaashi’s time of need, he was stronger than Bokuto had ever hoped to be. It was just another thing that Bokuto admired about him. He would never judge Akaashi for his weakness, especially not when he had been worse himself. 

Akaashi was using him as a pillar of support while he recovered from losing his family. Not only was Bokuto okay with this, but he preferred it. He wanted to do anything and everything within his ability to help Akaashi. He remembered when Akaashi had helped pull him back to his feet, and he wanted to extend his hand to do the same. 

He was okay with being used by Akaashi. 

Bokuto understood however that this may cause his relationship with Akaashi to form in a way that he didn’t want it to. Akaashi depended on him, and Bokuto wanted them to be able to depend on one another, but he didn’t want their relationship to form based on Akaashi’s depressive needs. He wanted Akaashi to want him, not necessarily need him in order to function. Akaashi had been beautiful, full of independent strength and Bokuto wanted to help him reach that point again. 

No matter how out of wits Akaashi had been, every touch made Bokuto feel warm, made his heart flutter in his chest. He loved holding Akaashi, letting him curl into his embrace and allow Bokuto to soothe him with soft words and traced patterns on his back. Bokuto could only hope that he made Akaashi feel similar. 

It would be better than him feeling nothing at all. 

Konoha had asked Bokuto about it once. Sarukui and Komi never said a word on the matter, but he could see the painful hopefulness from Komi when he walked into the tack room as Bokuto let Akaashi cry into his chest. No one wanted to discuss it, but everyone knew that Bokuto had become Akaashi’s life support. 

Bokuto had been surprised that Konoha was supportive of it. He wouldn’t necessarily describe the sentiment as warm, but it was clear that Konoha prioritized Akaashi’s comfort and happiness over whether or not it was Bokuto or Sakusa. It was enough for Bokuto. He knew that Konoha had some sort of preference for Akaashi to court Sakusa, his own or Bokuto’s feelings be damned. Maybe with time Konoha would warm up to the possibility of Bokuto courting Akaashi. Maybe. 

That was admittedly Bokuto’s goal, as he had discovered most obviously when Sakusa had come to visit. Seeing Akaashi with someone else was painful for Bokuto, and while Akaashi’s happiness came first, he still wanted that happiness to be from him. He’s okay with being selfish. 

So, Bokuto chewed his lip as he watched Akaashi cry again. There was no sniffling or sobs, just silent empty tears that trailed down Akaashi’s cheeks as he stared into the nothing. He ran his fingers through Akaashi’s curly hair, attempting to help Akaashi feel anything, and was rewarded with the slightest bit of a pained smile. 

He cherished it all the same. 

When they arrived back to the stables after their ride along the riverbed, Akaashi didn’t stay to help with the grooming like he used to. He helped pull the saddles from the horses, buried his face into Bokuto’s shoulder one last time in the tack room, and mumbled something about requesting Konoha to run him a bath. 

Bokuto pinched his lip between his teeth and resisted saying _I love you_ as Akaashi left. 

*** 

Baths were a blessing, Akaashi decided. When Bokuto and he had returned to the manor, Akaashi requested Konoha to start a bath for him, eager to sit and allow his mind to wander emptily. Times when Akaashi could be alone were times that he could rest in his own misery without the concerned looks from his peers. But Bokuto’s company left Akaashi feeling slightly rejuvenated, although certainly not cohesive, and a nice scented bath sounded like a pleasant way to hopefully continue the uplifted mood. 

With tinted cheeks, Konoha left Akaashi in the bathroom, the mirrors fogged with hot steam and the smell of pomegranate oil permeating the air. 

Allowing his mind to wander its own path had been an interesting experience. Akaashi swirled aimless trails in the bubbles of the water with his fingertips, watching the tinted pink oil spiral, billow and twist with mild curiosity. It reminded him of watching the river with Bokuto, the flow of water and algae, how he couldn’t seem to overcome the feeling of dread that he was now the sole master of the Akaashi estate. With no relatives of note, this also meant that Akaashi had no heir. 

It was the thought of his household becoming impoverished and abandoned with all his staff unemployed and homeless that kept Akaashi’s thoughts from meandering into even darker territories. He couldn’t do that to Bokuto or Konoha, or the rest of the house staff. He wouldn’t allow himself to be responsible for the misery of others. 

Bokuto kept Akaashi’s nightmares at bay. Discussing the night terrors had been something he avoided avidly, but he was certain Konoha knew after he had woken him up from a spell of unconscious fits. Whether or not Bokuto was aware of them, Akaashi was unsure. They weren’t something he was prepared to discuss. Akaashi wasn’t necessarily sure he could recall the specifics of the dreams, just remnants of blind emotions that left him clammy and trembling in the dead of night. It’s difficult to talk about things he doesn’t have a grasp on. 

The more frequent the night terrors became, the more frequently Akaashi sought out Bokuto. Sometimes he would attempt to disguise it under horse riding or training, but he was certain Bokuto saw through him regardless. Akaashi had somewhat dismissed his own dignity ages ago anyways. 

There had been times Akaashi curled within himself, held by Bokuto’s strength, and pondered asking Bokuto about his parents, about how he had coped with his own grief. But it wasn’t his place to inquire. Akaashi was more than curious, he was in need, but he wouldn’t push Bokuto into something so painful just for his own selfish curiosity. 

Akaashi leaned back against the porcelain of the tub, sliding down to dip his hair into the water that grew steadily colder with every passing moment. The water muffled his hearing and filled his ears, but he didn’t care. His mind was consumed by thought. 

_Maybe…_

Maybe Akaashi’s infatuation with Bokuto, which he had originally struggled to admit to, was evolving. Or it could simply be that the growth in his affection is falsified, a distorted affinity born from a need for compensation of the loss of his parents. What Akaashi considered most likely was that instead the grief proved only as a catalyst for his affinity for Bokuto to grow. 

Whether this was to be a good or bad thing, Akaashi remained unsure. 

Sitting up slightly, Akaashi lazily tilted his head from side to side to drain the water from his ears and sighed. He hadn’t the slightest idea how long he had been in the bath, but Konoha had not yet gathered him for supper, so he assumed it not too long. His gaze dragged along the water’s surface, now noticeably devoid of the frothy bubbles that were previously decorating the meniscus, to the shine of the porcelain and the curtain drawn closed over the window. 

Humming, Akaashi reached a wet hand from the water and pulled the curtain to the side. At least now he could guess at the time based off of the colors of the sunset. 

Or so he would have, had he not been awoken an indeterminable amount of time later to a warm hand shaking his shoulder firmly. Oh, and a _very_ distraught Konoha. 

“Akaashi, please,” Konoha pleaded, “It’s no wonder you didn’t respond when I knocked. You sleep like the deceased, Akaashi.” 

Akaashi attempted a mumbled mess of Konoha’s name but gave up halfway through. 

“What if you had fallen under? You’re going to become ill if you stay in there, damn it.” 

When Akaashi opened his eyes at the swear to see Konoha standing as far away as he could muster while also attempting to stir him awake, he couldn’t muster the energy to even scowl properly. Somewhere in his mind, he was thankful that Konoha had attempted even the smallest kindness to his privacy, but he didn’t voice it. He didn’t even have the energy to worry about covering up, honestly. 

“What time is it, Konoha?” 

Konoha stepped back and rested his hands on his hips with furrowed brows, looking just to the left of Akaashi. 

“It is nearly nine at night.” 

Ah, well, that explains why Akaashi’s body feels both frigid and numb, whilst also managing to be in pain at the same time. Three hours is a very long time to be sitting in a porcelain tub filled with cold bathwater. 

“How come you didn’t come for me earlier?” Akaashi asked quietly, shifting in the water in attempt to wake his limbs, “I didn’t intend to fall asleep…” 

“I knocked several times over the hour but you never responded and I thought you just… needed time.” 

Akaashi hummed but didn’t answer. He didn’t really have the energy to. He felt as if the cold of the bathwater had sapped all of his energy and prior good mood. 

“If you need anything, just call. It’s well past dinner, but I’ll make you something and present it to you with your evening tea in your study. Please, don’t hesitate,” he paused when he saw Akaashi shift and shiver in the water, “You’re going to get sick.” 

Konoha left with the soft click of the door shutting without waiting for an answer, but Akaashi could recognize it wasn’t with anger. He was most likely just worried, as Akaashi was sure he was often nowadays. Not that Akaashi could bring himself to do anything about it, admittedly. 

Akaashi’s fingertips and knuckles were nearly violet, his joints popping as he curled them into fists a couple times to wake them up. His skin felt unnaturally tight with pale skin and goosebumps that Akaashi rubbed away futilely with his palm. The air was warmer than the water of the bath when Akaashi stepped out, relishing in the warmth of the towels and ignoring the way his body shivered against the cold. 

Pulling on his robe over the towels wrapped around him in a layered attempt to keep warm, Akaashi mused that Bokuto would be warm. Bokuto was always warm. The thought almost made him smile faintly. 

Akaashi fell asleep without his evening tea or supper, curled up in his robe on his bed in a failed attempt to dress to meet Konoha in the study. He fell asleep on top of the duvet, but woke up the next morning to Konoha shuffling at his bedside and himself tucked neatly beneath the covers. 

Admittedly, Akaashi felt absolutely horrid at best. He could barely breathe through his nose, his body felt simultaneously hot and cold, and he felt he had been trampled by a thousand carriages. 

“I told you that you were going to get sick,” Konoha chided, prompting Akaashi to turn in his bed and stare at him with a groggy scowl, “It’s no wonder, really, considering how long you sat in freezing cold bath water like that.” 

Konoha was pouring Akaashi a cup of hot tea that smelled distinctly like lemon and honey, and absolutely was not Akaashi’s normal morning tea. He considered mentioning it, requesting his preferred morning tea instead of the lemon and honey, but thought better of it. Instead, he stared up at the ceiling blankly, internally cursing his own exhaustion for getting him sick. 

“There’s some hot soup from Yukie and some tea for when you’re ready. Drink it, it’ll help. Need you anything else, Akaashi?” Konoha stood over him at the bedside, eyes searching Akaashi’s face for an answer. 

“It’s cold,” Akaashi replied with a croak, “Please, tell Bokuto that I will not be able to ride with him today or continue training.” 

Konoha’s expression melted into a bit of a smirk, nearly a sneer, and Akaashi did not trust it. 

“I’ll fetch some hot stones for your bed and another blanket. And… I’ll have Bokuto bathe first. He’s been cleaning stalls all morning.” He waved his hand dismissively, still with a coy smirk as he walked towards the door of the bedroom. 

Akaashi cannot fathom why Konoha would instead fetch the stablehand and send him up to his room while Akaashi is ill, rather than just relay the message as Akaashi requested, but Konoha disappeared through the closed door into the hallway before Akaashi could ask. He watched the large clock at the far side of the room while he waited for Konoha to return, his mind floating on the precipice of sleep again. 

He dozed on and off until Konoha returned with the heated stones to place beneath his mattress and threw another blanket on top of Akaashi. As Konoha shifted the mattress slightly to place the stones, it was a little uncomfortable, but the all encompassing warmth soon made up for it. He nearly forgot to question Konoha again. 

“Konoha,” Akaashi mumbled into the duvet, “Why are you keen on bringing Bokuto to me?” 

Konoha glanced at him with a grin and narrow eyes, but refused to answer. He only hummed and resumed placing the hot stones systematically. After a few moments he stood from his crouch with a slight stretch of his back. 

“If you’re still sick tomorrow, I’ll send for Doctor Iwaizumi,” mumbled Konoha with a stifled yawn, “Try to rest. I’ll check in with you in a few hours.” 

A knock rapped on the wood of the bedroom door, and Konoha hummed contemplatively as he meandered to open it. After a moment and some oddly suspicious whispers passed between what Akaashi confirmed to be Bokuto, Konoha stepped aside to let him in and slipped out the door without another word. 

Akaashi still didn’t know why Konoha brought Bokuto to his bedroom, but he was too exhausted and apathetic to do any action against it. 

“‘Kaashi? Konoha said you’re sick.” 

Bokuto’s genuine nature and his own determination to remain somewhat polite is what stopped Akaashi from making a rude remark about the obviousness of that statement. Instead, he hummed in quiet agreement and curled further into the fluff of the duvets and warm bedsheets. He was still confused why Bokuto was there, but when Bokuto sat in the chair at his bedside and offered to help him eat some soup and drink some tea with a soft smile before he napped, Akaashi agreed without comment. 

The company was nice. Bokuto asked how he was a little too frequently perhaps, fretted if there was anything more that he could do to appease Akaashi and make his time while ill a little smoother, but Akaashi found the genuine attention and concern soothing in a way. He still didn’t enjoy being a burden upon others, but he had been such for so long, since his parents’ passing in fact, that it felt irrelevant. 

Bokuto seemed more than happy to oblige anyways. 

“You should rest,” Bokuto suggested as Akaashi finished the last sip of his tea. 

Akaashi frowned slightly. He had been enjoying Bokuto’s company and admittedly didn’t really want him to leave. He knew it was selfish, that the stablehand had his own chores and life to attend to, but he found himself resisting the idea of sleep regardless, instead in favor of the idea of Bokuto continuing to keep him company. 

“I feel fine, Bokuto,” he stated slowly, as if he didn’t believe the statement himself, and Bokuto certainly wasn’t deterred either. He simply repeated that Akaashi should rest, drawing locks of hair from Akaashi’s face with his forefinger. The gesture made Akaashi feel warm. 

“I feel a bit cold,” he said instead, “My fever gives me chills.” 

Between his fever, the hot stones, and extra duvet, Akaashi didn’t feel cold in the slightest. He did, however, feel slightly guilty about lying to Bokuto when he reacted so sincerely, pressing the back of hand against Akaashi’s forehead and chewing the inside of his cheek in worry. It was quite endearing, and Akaashi tried his best to smile when he asked for Bokuto to stay just a little bit longer. 

*** 

Bokuto didn’t understand why Akaashi had lied to him. If he wanted him to stay, all he had to do was ask. He figured Akaashi didn’t want to admit to wanting Bokuto’s company, but the very thought that Akaashi was willing to lie just to try to keep Bokuto with him made him feel ecstatic. He was absolutely beaming as he carried most of the conversation, watching Akaashi for slight nods and solemn comments. 

They didn’t talk about anything important, but it was the most that Akaashi had really socialized since his parents funeral, and Bokuto was happy to spend as much time as he was allowed talking to Akaashi. 

Admittedly, Akaashi looked pale, the pink of his fever in his cheeks and the dark of his hair contrasting with the white of his skin and the shallow beneath his eyes making him seem frail. Akaashi normally exuded independence and strength, but between his grief and his illness, he looked only dependent and fragile. Bokuto didn’t like it, but he liked Akaashi. 

When Akaashi apologized for being unable to ride and teach Bokuto, he almost gawked at the ridiculousness of it. Bokuto waved his hands frantically, dismissing the idea and changing the subject to something lighter. He told Akaashi about his friend Tendou, how he taught Bokuto so much about the world around him; how to read, write, and cook, about how Tendou fell in love and eloped with his best friend to places Bokuto couldn’t follow. He didn’t really want to be the third wheel to their honeymoon anyways. 

Bokuto would talk forever if Akaashi would listen, and continued telling Akaashi all about his shenanigans and adventures with Tendou and Kuroo while Konoha brought another tray of tea and eyed Bokuto with a quirked eyebrow. Akaashi even laughed once, a quiet, nearly inaudible breath of a chuckle when Bokuto told him about the time Tendou and him woke up Kuroo by throwing a wet chicken in his bedroom. 

It _was_ funny after all. Bokuto was sure that Kuroo was still put out about it. 

He stopped talking when he saw Akaashi’s eyes drift shut and his breathing level to a deep slow rhythm. He probably should have left, but there was something peaceful and relieving about seeing Akaashi finally relax and sleep. Bokuto draped himself across the bed, admiring the occasional flutter of eyelashes and shift of posture. 

Even when sickly, pale, and sleeping, Akaashi was beautiful. 

*** 

Akaashi woke up having not realized he had fallen asleep again. Absently, he hoped this wouldn’t become some sort of unfortunate trend. But, he was snug and warm, and his head felt a little less cloudy and congested. A quick glance to the clock at the wall told him it was already past eight at night, and the subtle violets and blues out the window confirmed it. A peek down the duvet told him that the heavy weight on his legs was Bokuto. 

It felt oddly reminiscent of before when Bokuto had slept draped across his legs during Akaashi’s concussion. It was a trend that Akaashi didn’t mind so much, although it left his legs feeling rather stiff. 

Bokuto had dedicated his whole day to staying beside Akaashi, then. The household was relatively silent, only the clicking _tick tock_ of the clock on the wall and the crickets and frogs beyond the window creating a sort of rhythmic medley. Oh, and the occasional mumble and chatter of Bokuto, because of course the man talks in his sleep. 

It was pretty cute, actually. He mentioned something about owls, and it made Akaashi smile. 

Akaashi stared blankly at the ceiling for awhile, feeling the warmth and weight of Bokuto and listening to the sounds around him. He still felt hollow somehow, as if something was always missing, and even though he knew what it was, there was nothing he could do to bring it back, to bring _them_ back. 

There’s soup on the bedside table, and Akaashi considered eating it until he felt the chill of the bowl. It had likely been there for a couple hours at least. The longer he laid awake, the more he felt his own depression seeping into his being, smothering him in a weighty blanket until laying seemed less like an option and more like a result of the pressure. 

Carefully, he slid out from beneath Bokuto’s weight and felt the cold of the wood floor beneath his feet. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t see any of the other house staff on his way to the bathroom and back, but he heard shuffling and humming in the kitchen. At least one other person was still awake and working. 

When he returned back to his quarters, he stood beside his bed in his robe and stared at the snoring lump halfway on his bed for a moment before slipping his legs back beneath the covers and wedging them beneath Bokuto. He laid restlessly for a moment. The monotonous rhythm of the clock seemed to echo in Akaashi’s mind like the anxious tapping of fingernails on the tabletop. 

Akaashi’s chest felt as though it were tightening with a vice like grip, his own rib cage curling in to stifle his own heartbeat. It felt similar to the night terrors, his skin becoming clammy and cold to the touch of his own fingertips and his body trembling. Breathing felt difficult, coming only in shallow gasps and Akaashi fought to recognize why this was happening now. 

He had never felt this way in the waking hours, never felt anything but the shallow remnants of his nightmares. Curling his arms around himself, he stared into the dark of his bedroom, lit only by the dim light of the outside skylight, but he could hear whispers growing into grotesque wails and cries that filled his mind and rang in his ears. 

Bokuto had grown silent, or maybe Akaashi just couldn’t hear him anymore over the sounds of his labored breaths and rapid heartbeat. He clenched his eyes shut as if it would make the voices stop, feeling the tears pouring down his cheeks- his mother, father, the storm of hooves on stone and cracking of the wooden wheels of a carriage- before everything was silent. 

He couldn’t hear himself screaming. 

Akaashi’s eyes blinked viciously, his throat hoarse and drool leaking from his lips onto the wood floor. He wasn’t in his bed. He was-the floor? The bedroom floor, near the door. His arms restrained by something hot and soft at the same time and he gasped for breath. The sound of his scream still rang through the rafters, his heart pounding and lungs burning. His body shuddered violently, twice, and he would have collapsed if he weren’t being held up. 

As if he had just opened his eyes, he suddenly could see and feel Konoha holding his cheeks between his palms, eyes searching Akaashi’s. Someone was talking to him, but Konoha’s mouth was closed. Akaashi recognized it as Bokuto, as the one holding him tightly from behind as they kneeled in a collapsed heap on the floor. 

It was the nightmares again, then. 

“Akaashi,” Konoha’s voice cut through Akaashi’s muddled thoughts, “Akaashi, you’re fine now.” 

He’s heard that before, every time Konoha has found him and awoken him from his spell of night terror. 

“Akaashi, Akaashi,” Bokuto’s grip around him tightened uncomfortably, “Are you okay?” 

He could feel Bokuto’s nose buried into his neck, the hot breath tickling his skin. If he didn’t feel so violently like retching, he might have appreciated the feeling more. It took too much energy to nod than it should have, and Bokuto’s arms went slack. Konoha’s hands dropped from Akaashi’s cheeks and Konoha sighed heavily. 

“What was that?” Bokuto whispered, and Akaashi was sure it wasn’t aimed at him. 

“Iwaizumi calls them night terrors,” Konoha replied calmly, “They’re kind of like nightmares.” 

“Nightmares,” Bokuto scoffed, and Akaashi thought it an odd sound from Bokuto. It wasn’t the upbeat or soothing voice Akaashi enjoyed, it was laced with bitterness and something darker. 

Akaashi was thankful when they didn’t question him about the contents of the dream. It was his first time really remembering anything from one, and while Konoha probably assumed that Akaashi simply didn’t recall like he had with previous night terrors, he really just needed time to process. 

They helped Akaashi to his feet to sit on his bed, a cool glass of water retrieved by Konoha to soothe his throat from screaming. 

Bokuto refused to leave Akaashi’s bedside. Between what Bokuto had just seen and Akaashi being sick, he couldn’t blame him for feeling that way. The comfort of having another person around was appreciated. It wouldn’t keep the night terrors away, but the idea of having someone to keep him from sleep walking himself down the stairs was reassuring. 

Konoha tried to convince Akaashi to eat before returning to bed, but Akaashi’s appetite was non-existent. The very thought of food made his stomach churn. He excused himself quietly and made a necessary bathroom break. When he returned, he could hear Bokuto and Konoha talking hurriedly in hushed tones, but as the door creaked open, the discussion stopped. Akaashi took no offense. 

He bid Konoha good night before crawling back beneath the duvets. The sheets were cold and unforgiving, making Akaashi wonder just how long he had been out of bed. Despite his curiosity, he didn’t want to look at the clock. He had a feeling what laid there would be damning. 

Sleep was hard to come by. His body shivered against the chill of the sheets, the stones beneath the mattress having gone cold hours prior, and there was only so much that Akaashi could curl into himself to try to maintain warmth. When all else failed, he pulled a silent Bokuto from his chair and beneath the covers. 

Bokuto didn’t ask, and Akaashi never explained. 

He’s warm and sturdy, making Akaashi feel safe. It reminds him of their time together at the riverside. Akaashi’s eyes bled empty tears, and he could feel Bokuto pull him tighter against his chest when a small sob escaped his lips. Even though they had been alone at the river, it felt much more intimate under the cover of night and the privacy of his personal quarters. 

Akaashi drifted into sleep with a warm body at his back and a sturdy grasp around his waist. 

When Akaashi awoke again, he was relieved to find himself still within the confines of his bed and of sound mind. Bokuto was snoring lightly against his neck, arms wrapped tightly around his waist and leg draped across his hip. Konoha was rustling by his beside, likely what had woken Akaashi in the first place, replacing the cold bowl of abandoned soup from the previous day with a large bowl of hot breakfast grits. 

Konoha noticed Akaashi was awake with a perk of an eyebrow and glance to Bokuto, followed by a sly smile. 

“Warm, Akaashi?” he teased. 

Akaashi resisted the urge to scowl and pout, instead choosing to ignore the heat in his cheeks. If Konoha noticed, he didn’t point it out. He set glasses from the tea tray onto the nightstand and started to fill them slowly. He was stirring in sugar for Akaashi when he paused. 

“Does he like sugar?” asked Konoha, still not looking at Akaashi. 

“What?” 

Konoha finally looked at Akaashi, his eyes betraying something more than the sly smirk and teasing he had shown only moments ago. 

“Bokuto,” he clarified with a nod of his head in Bokuto’s direction, “Does he like sugar? In his tea.” 

Akaashi attempted a shrug. It was apparently clear enough for Konoha to distinguish cause he went back to preparing the tea quietly. He watched Konoha pull a sugar cube from the bowl and hold it in his hands, turning it over from side to side contemplatively before dropping into one the cups with a _clink_ and splash. 

“Bokuto stayed with you all day and night,” he murmured, straightening up to leave, “He neglected to eat or work in lieu of taking care of you.” 

Something within Akaashi convinced him that this was not stated for Akaashi’s benefit, but for Konoha’s. He was looking at Akaashi though, his eyes shifting between the two on the bed as if he were deep in thought. His eyes looked pained, his envy evident in the pursed lips and tightened brow. Akaashi tried not to think about what that envy was for exactly. 

Not that there was much to consider. The implications were obvious. 

“Thank you,” Akaashi whispered, watching Konoha nod his head in reply, “For telling me, and for assisting me.” 

“Are you feeling any better?” 

“Well enough, thank you. I can take care of myself,” he clarified when Konoha looked pointedly at Bokuto, “And him as well.” 

Konoha was chewing the inside of his lip almost violently, and Akaashi waited for him to say more. There was clearly something on his mind, between the dodge of his eyes and the unsettled shift of weight from foot to foot. He picked up the tray of supplies from the nightstand to leave, pausing at the foot of the bed only briefly. 

“Sakusa and Komori delivered a care basket for you this morning. The tea and breakfast is from Saksua.” 

Akaashi nodded and mumbled another _thank you_ as Konoha pulled the door shut, leaving him to curl back into the warm of the covers and Bokuto. Evidently, the stablehand could sleep through anything. He hadn’t stirred or mumbled in the slightest as Akaashi and Konoha interacted, his breath a steady inhale and exhale speckled with mumbles and light snores. 

After a few moments, the discontented growls of Akaashi’s stomach demanded he sit up and reach for the breakfast grits. He let Bokuto continuing sleeping, his arm deadweight across Akaashi’s lap and face smushed against Akaashi’s hip as he shoved spoonful after spoonful of food into his mouth. By the time he had thought about leaving some for Bokuto, there wasn’t enough left to warrant it, so he just ate it completely. He’d have to ask Konoha to bring some for Bokuto later. 

Setting the bowl back onto the bedside table as quietly as he could muster, he sat for a moment, dragging his fingers through the achromatic strands of Bokuto’s hair. It was soft. Bokuto was a duality of hards and softs. It was a duality that Akaashi appreciated. 

He also appreciated that with the poliosis, Bokuto’s hair was an eccentric sort of lovely contrasting with the dark burgendy of Akaashi’s pillowcase. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this is late!!  
> If you follow my [ Tumblr ](http://foxyena.tumblr.com/)  
> you'll get sneak peaks when chapters are late.  
> I have decided to move this fic to updating biweekly.  
> I have [ 40 Other Fics In Progress ](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1oMl_2g4n9z0hQtz3L-XiDfDjZFcW82vApk0d92zoj1c/edit?usp=sharing)  
> and the weekly updates give me no time for my other projects!  
>  ** Up Next: **  
>  -Kuroo arrives!!  
> -We learn more about Bokuto's past  
> -We see some more Komori


	10. Past and Present

** [Chapter 10: Past and Present] **

Konoha frowned at the kitchen counter where he had been preparing lunch when the golden owl knocker rapped loudly at the front door. Wiping his hands on his apron, he slipped from the kitchen into the entry room and opened the door, expecting perhaps a courier or Komori dropping by to visit him as he was wont to do on occasion, but it seemed his hopes had been too high. 

Instead, Konoha stared in confusion, his brows pinched together and eyes narrow at a lanky noiret with a crooked smile and glint in his eye that Konoha did not trust. They stared at one another for a moment before the stranger smirked a small _hello._

“Might I assist you?” asked Konoha slowly. 

“Is this how you greet all your guests here? Or just me?” 

The man leaned down with his hands in his pockets, and Konoha had never hated more that a person was taller than him. Then again, most didn’t loom above him. When Konoha didn’t give an audible answer, the stranger continued. 

“I’m a friend of Bokuto’s. I was told by a mutual... _friend,”_ the man chewed the word as if it pained him to speak it, “...of ours that he works and lives here. He said he was going to come visit me last week, but when he didn’t, I decided to drop by. That’s fine, right?” 

Something in Konoha wanted to reply that _no, it’s not fine,_ as the way the stranger _-Bokuto’s friend-_ leered over him and spoke so casually left a bad taste in Konoha’s mouth. He hadn’t even introduced himself or given a name for Konoha to refer to him by. It was grossly improper; although, it quite honestly reminded him of Bokuto in a way. The man only straightened his posture, broad shoulders with lean muscle and long limbs dangling passively at his side, watching Konoha curiously. 

Bokuto and Akaashi were out in the stables preparing for a ride. They might not be available. Konoha considered explaining this to him, but he also craved to know more about the dirty stranger that apparently was Bokuto’s friend. 

“Bokuto works in the stables. What’s your name? I can escort you through the gardens.” 

“Fancy,” the man commented, “I’m Kuroo Tetsurou. I would appreciate it, if you’d be so kind.” 

Konoha faintly remembered Bokuto commenting that a Kuroo had been his housemate of sorts in the past. He assumed this to be the very one. As much as it pained him, he waved a gesture for Kuroo to follow, and turned to walk through the living room to the mudroom in the offset of the kitchen, and out the side door towards the garden. Behind him, Kuroo made small comments on the art on the walls, the size of the estate, things that Konoha didn’t feel were worthwhile to respond to. 

Kuroo didn’t seem to mind. Perhaps he was accustomed to being ignored. 

*** 

Akaashi wouldn’t necessarily admit to counting the days since his parents’ passing and his full inheritance of the estate, but he was acutely aware that it had been exactly one month and four days since he received the letter from Doctor Iwaizumi. That translated into one month and three days since he had seen Daishou exiting Iwaizumi’s office as he had entered, and the thought had been clawing at the inside of his skull for weeks. It had begun as a tickle at the back of his mind, smothered by the all consuming sadness he felt, but as time passed, it grew in intensity and became more difficult to ignore. 

Something felt _wrong_ about it. 

Akaashi stroked his fingertips through Fukuro’s mane, freshly brushed and ready to ride when Bokuto returned with his own gelding to mount. His rides with Bokuto had begun as a weekly event, but they increased in frequency to near daily after Akaashi had allowed himself to seek comfort from Bokuto more often. Bokuto didn’t mind the company, and being productive in the lovely grounds of the estate helped fight against Akaashi’s constant battle of depression. 

His mental state still wasn’t where it should be, and some days were far more severe than others, but it was a work in progress. Bokuto seemed to strive to prove that daily for Akaashi. He was more than grateful for Bokuto. 

Fukuro’s nose was soft against Akaashi’s temple, and he leaned into it comfortably, his hand rubbing affectionate patterns against the horse’s cheek. Akaashi was so consumed in his own thoughts that he did not notice Konoha approaching until he called out for him. 

“Akaashi,” Konoha’s hand felt heavy on Akaashi’s shoulder, “We have a… guest. For Bokuto.” 

Humming curiously, Akaashi turned to see the guest who had followed Konoha. He had been admiring the inside of the stable, but focused solely on Akaashi with a lopsided grin when Bokuto’s name was said. 

“Kuroo Tetsurou,” he introduced, extending his hand for Akaashi to take. His grip was firm but not unwelcoming. “You must be the master of the estate.” 

Akaashi nodded, a bit at odds with how his own gaze seemed fixated on whatever was happening to this man’s hair. It was a disaster. He thought he might have seen a stray feather in it, but he wasn’t certain. 

“Akaashi Keiji,” he replied coolly, turning to Konoha, “Bokuto is in the pasture retrieving a gelding. Why don’t you fetch Bokuto while I entertain Kuroo in your absence?” 

Konoha’s stare was not very comforting. It appeared to be inquiring _are you sure_ and Akaashi wondered what Kuroo could have done to make Konoha so wary. There was mud caked to the edges of Kuroo’s trousers and his hair was a catastrophe, but Akaashi saw no reason to discredit his society. Konoha was sharp though, so he trusted his judgement of character, but conclusively, Akaashi’s own curiosity won out in the end. 

With a nod, Konoha reluctantly left to venture into the pasture in search of Bokuto, leaving Akaashi to entertain his unexpected company. Admittedly, Akaashi was a little more than slightly inquisitive to learn more about someone so monumental to Bokuto’s past. Bokuto had spoken much of Kuroo during his time comforting Akaashi. 

“Kuroo, I hope your travels here faired well.” 

Kuroo hummed appreciatively, “Quite. Your estate grounds are stunning. Almost as much as you are.” 

Akaashi blinked and almost coughed audibly. Kuroo had stepped forward while he spoke, a little too close for comfort. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed the estate grounds,” he specified carefully, “Bokuto has mentioned you on occasion. He seems to enjoy your company and speaks well of you.” 

“Mhm,” Kuroo confirmed, stepping even closer to Akaashi who found himself backed up to Fukuro, “We’ve been together since we were only toddlers. He’s quite lucky to get to work for someone who’s so beautiful. Your eyes are such a pretty color, and so sharp.” 

Kuroo didn’t touch, which Akaashi felt grateful for, but his figure felt as if it were trapping Akaashi, leaving him only the options of physically pushing Kuroo away or crawling under Fukuro’s belly. 

“Do you run the estate by yourself? That’s rather impressive, Akaashi. I’ve heard good things about your character. You maintain good society, or so I hear.” 

Akaashi kept his expression as impassive as possible. It helped him feel a slight ounce of control. 

“Might I ask who told you of my character?” 

Kuroo chewed his bottom lip for a moment before answering, “Daishou.” 

That was not a name that Akaashi had expected. He wasn’t sure who he had anticipated exactly, but the serpentine associate of Sakusa’s was certainly not it. Something about it made his chest hurt and his stomach churn uncomfortably. Akaashi considered inquiring more, but he wasn’t sure he could handle it emotionally. He opened his mouth before shutting it again, unsure what to say. Kuroo was watching him closely. _Very closely._

“You are a bit close for comfort, Kuroo. I feel as if my space has been intruded upon,” Akaashi stated instead. He could feel Kuroo’s body heat radiating off him in waves. It didn’t help the unsettled feeling in his gut. 

Akaashi recognized rather decidedly that he wasn’t terribly fond of Kuroo. He may still feel a bit distanced from his own emotions out of vacuity, but the way Kuroo leaned so casually into Akaashi’s space, complimented him in such an unabashed manner with hooded lids and a crooked grin, it illuminated Akaashi’s impression of Kuroo with clarity. 

He was relieved when Kuroo took a step back, allowing Akaashi to breathe. His eyes stayed trained on Akaashi, studying his face for a clue perhaps, but he didn’t speak. A moment later, Akaashi heard approaching footsteps and assumed this had been the cause of Kuroo allowing him space. He had never been happier to hear Bokuto’s booming voice in the stable. 

“Kuroo!” 

“Hey, Bo! You were supposed to visit me last week, ya know?” 

Kuroo’s voice transfered from sly and provocative to friendly so quickly, it was exhausting. Akaashi recognized that Kuroo’s influence is likely where Bokuto’s rather casual way of speaking came from. Or perhaps, they simply fed off of one another. They chattered animatedly with contractions and slang terms Akaashi had never heard before and barely comprehended due solely to the context. Konoha stepped beside Akaashi with a clear frown. Akaashi didn’t need to ask to know why. 

He was certain that Konoha had seen how close Kuroo had been to Akaashi only moments ago. 

“Akaashi!” Bokuto’s attention felt like a hurricane directed at Akaashi, “Would it be alright for Kuroo and I to visit upon the town? We can pick up supplies and catch up while we’re there. I’m sorry, Akaashi!” he deflated, “Maybe we can ride later?” 

“Yes,” Akaashi replied a bit hurriedly, ignoring Konoha’s unattractive snort and Kuroo’s raised brow. He wasn’t even trying to be subtle. “Konoha can provide you with some funds and perhaps a list of supplies. Enjoy your time in town, Bokuto.” 

Admittedly, Akaashi simply didn’t want to be around the unabashedly flirtatious Kuroo anymore. He needed the space to consider Daishou’s affiliation and conjure up some questions he could ask Kuroo when they return from town, hopefully. It frustrated him that his own injured psyche left his mind reeling, his normal analytical prowess impaired. 

“Let’s go, Bo. You should tell me all about living at the _Akaashi_ estate.” Kuroo winked at Akaashi as Konoha escorted them out of the stables. As soon as they were gone, Akaashi breathed a sigh of relief. 

Social interaction was still far more exhausting to Akaashi than it normally was. He faintly wondered if and when he would recover enough from his grief to enjoy the company of others aside from Bokuto or Konoha again. 

*** 

Bokuto may as well have sprinted down the stone pathway towards the market stalls. He was ecstatic to see Kuroo again, listening to Kuroo tell him stories about Fukunaga and Yamamoto while they traveled. It was a long walk from the Akaashi estate into town, but the time passed quickly between them. Kuroo’s long strides helped him keep up with Bokuto’s boundless energy effortlessly, and not even a hiccup in his steps when Bokuto swung around to stop in his path. 

“We should buy stuff for the horses, Kuroo! It might make Akaashi happy.” 

“I’m just here to visit you, so wherever you would like to go is fine with me, Bo,” Kuroo replied calmly, following easily when Bokuto swerved towards a market stall, filled with coarse brushes. Bokuto seemed happy enough just humming next to Kuroo and lifting up different brushes as if he could actually determine their worth or effectiveness. 

“So, what is it like? To live somewhere so fancy. The Akaashi estate is even bigger than Tendou’s.” 

Bokuto looked at him with bright golden eyes, uninhibited in their excitement and admiration. 

“It’s really different! I do miss you and the others at times, but working for Akaashi makes it all worth it.” He set down an oak backed brush and picked up a mahogany one curiously. The steep price tag on the mahogany brush made Kuroo stare for a moment. 

“He is really attractive,” Kuroo confirmed with a grin. 

“‘Kaashi is beautiful! He is teaching me to ride horses, and Konoha taught me to eat fancy and set the table so we can eat together each meal. He didn’t like me much at first, but I think he’s starting to tolerate me more. And Komi and Sarukui are great too! They’re really fun to spend time with. Sometimes we have hay fights or Saru and I will build stuff with spare parts in the barn.” 

“You dine with the master of the household? That’s… not common practice. You seem like you’re pretty close to Akaashi.” 

“Well, I think so. Akaashi and I are pretty close… I guess.” Bokuto scratched the back of his head, ruffling his hair and Kuroo noticed the slight pink to his cheeks. He quirked an eyebrow. 

They wandered to the next stall slowly after Bokuto paid the merchant for the lovely mahogany brush. Kuroo mused internally that Bokuto never would have spent money on such expensive items in the past when a cheaper one would have done the job just as well. 

“How close are you to Akaashi?” Kuroo asked finally, watching Bokuto’s shoulders tense as he froze, fingers gripped around the braided reins of a leather bridle. 

The reaction from Bokuto was telling enough, but Kuroo searched Bokuto’s face when he turned around, as if it would provide him with more detail. 

“We’re- ah.. We’re very close,” Bokuto admitted, “When Akaashi was hurt a little while ago, it was kind of my fault -they say it wasn’t, but it was- and I wanted to do anything I could to help him feel better. I remembered how you helped me when I fell from the ladder repairing Tendou’s barn, ya know, with the stretches and the way you massaged my muscles to keep them from cramping… And I helped Akaashi. I didn’t like seeing him hurt like that. And after his parents died, he needed someone to help put him back together. Suga helped at first -you’d like Suga, he’s funny like you- but after Suga left, I… ah.. He would cry sometimes. I try to... hold the pieces together.” 

Bokuto pinched his lip between his teeth, avoiding Kuroo’s unwavering gaze. He swallowed nervously before continuing. 

“Then, Akaashi got sick. He didn’t want to admit it, but he needed help, didn’t want to be alone. I may have, um, well, his bed is very comfortable.” 

Kuroo looked at him incredulously, his brow pinched together, eyes wide and lips pursed. Bokuto was becoming increasingly anxious that he hadn’t said anything, more words spilling from his mouth before he could stop them. 

“He may have kissed me… once or twice, nothing like-” 

“Bo, you’re…” Kuroo interrupted, clearing his throat softly, “I’m surprised to hear this, honestly. He seems so uptight and proper, I really didn’t expect to hear that. That’s… not at all how Daishou described him. I thought he was more traditional in values.” 

“You actually talked with Daishou?” 

“Yes, unfortunately. Listen, does- Is Akaashi like that with anyone else?” 

Bokuto seemed to consider it briefly before his nose scrunched up with a pout. 

“Sakusa. He visits Akaashi sometimes, and they ride together or talk in Akaashi’s study. I don’t like him. He’s haughty and cold. He stares at me a lot. I don’t know if it’s because of my.. condition,” Bokuto gestured to his hair, a clarification Kuroo didn’t need, “Or maybe he doesn’t like how close I am to Akaashi. He’s kind of intimidating, and he acts like he’s better than everyone else. I hate the way he looks at me.” 

He scuffed his boot and mumbled something that Kuroo almost didn’t catch, something that sounded similar to _I don’t like him with Akaashi._

Kuroo didn’t express that it would be more likely and proper for Akaashi to be with another aristocrat like Sakusa rather than a laborer like Bokuto or himself. He was sure that as much as Bokuto forced the idea from his mind, somewhere he knew it to be true without Kuroo having to explain it. 

“I’m very sorry to hear you view Sakusa this way,” Bokuto startled at the new voice that chimed in, spinning near violently to see Komori standing beside the next stall. 

Bokuto stammered, but couldn’t seem to voice any comprehensive thoughts. He _liked_ Komori. Komori was nice, friendly, always happy to chat with Bokuto and the other staff while Sakusa had been with Akaashi. 

Komori also just caught Bokuto being particularly sour about the person Komori was most loyal to. 

The usual exuberant demeanor with wide smiles and bright eyes had turned tight and strained. There was still a smile, but it felt forced and unnatural, a polite formality and attempt to maintain civil when it was clear he felt anything but. Komori was holding a basket in his hands, the knuckles white and skin taut over bone. Bokuto had never felt more like a child with his hand in the cookie jar at any point in his life. 

“I-” 

Komori raised his hand in a motion to stop, “I must return to Sakusa now. He’s waiting for me. I hope you change your mind. Sakusa is… more than he seems. You might have more in common than you may imagine.” 

With a stunned nod, Bokuto watched Komori pay for his purchase and leave, disappearing around the bend before Bokuto could think of anything to say. Thankfully, Kuroo broke the silence with a question Bokuto knew the answer to. 

“Who was he?” 

“Sakusa’s assistant… his very loyal, very friendly, super nice assistant who I think I just offended greatly,” Bokuto grumbled. 

“I wonder if he needed something specific to this market,” Kuroo pondered aloud, “The Sakusa manner is not particularly near here. It would be quite the travel for something simple.” 

Bokuto shrugged his shoulders and tried not to think about it, about how Komori probably thought so ill of him now. Kuroo slapped his shoulder with an empathetic smile, and urged him to pay for his purchase. He could see Bokuto’s mind begin to shift, to slip down a mudslide, and offered him something he knew would cheer him up. 

“Let’s go home, Bokuto.” 

*** 

Kuroo opened the door to Bokuto’s family home gently, hinges creaking to reveal to Bokuto how little had changed without him. All the pans in the kitchen hung on the far wall where they were before, the rug had the same wrinkle in it to stop the door from swinging open so wide it hit wall, and the walls were bare of the paintings of Bokuto’s biological family he had removed when they moved in. He assumed those were probably still in the barn under some tarps where he left them too. 

It had only been a few months, and Bokuto didn’t know why he had expected it to change since he had left, but everything was the same. It felt like stepping back in time. Something about how stagnant the house was without him made his heart sink. 

It felt like things would never change. He had moved on and found something beautiful, but he had left them behind to rot. 

“Is that Bokuto?” 

Bokuto’s smile felt like it spread across his whole body. 

“Tora!!” 

Kuroo barely managed to shuffle out of the crossfire as Yamamoto came barreling out of a hallway, tackling Bokuto and ruffling his hair with calloused hands. He was just as burly and emotional as Bokuto remembered him to be, his hair fuzzy to the touch and smelling like the smokestacks of the factory where he worked. 

“Kuroo said he was visiting you, but he never said he was bringin’ you back here! I would’a washed up!” 

“It’s not like Bo is going to care,” Kuroo chided. 

“Fukunaga! Kai!” If Bokuto wasn’t so accustomed to his own booming voice, his ear drums might have rung, “Bokuto came back!” 

Bokuto ruffled his the fuzz on the sides of Yamamoto’s head, laughing loudly while the brushes and bridle he had been carrying for Akaashi clamored to the floor in a forgotten heap. Out of a doorway, Fukunaga and Kai emerged, eyes bright and curious. Bokuto hadn’t been this happy in weeks. 

_Weeks._

Since Akaashi’s parents… since Bokuto had to help Akaashi be a person again. 

He felt guilty for leaving Akaashi alone when they had already planned to ride, when Akaashi might need him most. Bokuto hadn’t thought about it at the time, he was so happy to see Kuroo again, but the thought of Akaashi alone when he felt so engrossed in his own depression weakened Bokuto’s smile. 

Luckily, Yamamoto didn’t seem to notice. 

He backed up to give Bokuto space, and before Bokuto could even take another breath, Kai and Fukunaga were at his side, asking him how he was, how long was he staying, had he eaten yet. Bokuto answered the questions enthusiastically as quickly as they came. 

“How is it workin’ for Akaashi?” Kai asked, his smile genuinely curious and soft. 

“It’s great!” Bokuto grinned, always happy to talk more about Akaashi, “Akaashi is great!” 

“Bokuto is _espoused_ with the master. He’s quite taken by him. Can’t be blamed though, he is beautiful.” Kuroo teased. 

“We- We are not _espoused!!_ We are not even remotely engaged! He-” 

“Calm down, Bo. Fukunaga is climbing up the social ladder, too.” 

“Not as substantial as the _Akaashi_ estate,” Kai said, “And you know Fukunaga isn’t worried about that.” 

“Who is it?” Bokuto asked. 

“An inventor of sorts. He’s not well known. I don’t think he enjoys being doted upon or being out in society, but he is endowed. Just enjoys tinkering.” 

Bokuto nodded. He didn’t know anyone like that, so he didn’t bother to ask for a name. Fukunaga seemed relieved, tension bleeding from his shoulders that Bokuto hadn’t even realized were there. 

As they settled, Bokuto wandered through the house as if it had been years since he had last been, the cluck of chickens outside and semi-feral barn cats that always came to Bokuto’s call. Sometimes he took a little pride that no one else could get close to the cats. It made him feel special. 

He was crouched down, petting an orange tomcat when Kuroo leaned against the wooden doorframe of the barn, casting a solid shadow into the barn. 

“The animals always loved you, Bo,” Kuroo mused, “Sorry… about before.” 

“I’m not mad,” Bokuto clarified, “I’m just… we’re not like that exactly.” 

“But you’d like to be.” 

“Of course I would.” 

They were silent for a moment, only the twitter of birds in the trees, clucks of chickens, and solid purr of the tomcat between them. Of course Bokuto wanted his relationship with Akaashi to grow and flourish. What happened in town replayed in his mind, Komori’s normally friendly eyes and smile stretched stiff, the cold anger that Bokuto could feel crawling down his spine as he told Bokuto that Sakusa and him had more in common than he thought. 

It made his stomach churn indignantly. 

“Do you think he’s right?” he asked suddenly. Kuroo hummed an inquisitive sound, “Komori. Do you think what he said is true? That Sakusa and I have more in common.” 

“I don’t know. I’ve never met Sakusa.” 

Bokuto nodded even though he still lacked an answer. 

“I like animals better,” he began, “because they don’t treat me like Sakusa does. They don’t look down on me because of my hair or because I grew up in an orphanage with you and Fukunaga and Yamamoto, or because I do all the hard labor. The animals don’t treat me like I’m just for labor… or like a commodity.” 

Bokuto thought about Sakusa with Akaashi, and shook the thought from his mind before it consumed him. Akaashi, so polite yet blunt, honest yet always working to heed to social standards, genuine and kindhearted, dedicating his precious time to teaching Bokuto skills he could have delegated to Komi… And Sakusa, cold and unyielding, not even shaking hands with those he met, sharp eyes that bore into Bokuto’s nightmares and pulled his lip to pinch between his teeth until it split. 

He scratched the cat beneath the chin somewhat aggressively to keep himself from punching the ground in his frustration. When the cat turned tail and walked away, Bokuto wrapped his arms tight around his knees and stared into the emptiness of the space where the cat had been. 

“Akaashi treats me like a person. He doesn’t look down on me. He meets me where I am, not try to force me lower or make me come with him like Tendou.” 

Bokuto hadn’t looked to see if Kuroo was still there. He knew Kuroo wouldn’t walk away or ignore him like everyone else had whenever Bokuto needed help. 

“Who knows, Bo. Maybe Akaashi would teach Sakusa how to treat you better. It’s hard to say.” 

“I doubt it,” Bokuto muttered bitterly. 

“I know you do.” 

*** 

Bokuto didn’t plan to stay for dinner, but when Yamamoto said they had recently slaughtered one of the cows and planned to cook it, he couldn’t say no. It was different sitting at the dinner table with Kuroo, Yamamoto, Fukunaga, and Kai than at the Akaashi estate. The table wasn’t set properly, napkins were on the table instead of in laps, and people talked with their mouths full of food. It was both nostalgic for Bokuto and managed to make him feel oddly alienated in his own house when Yamamoto commented on it. 

He tried not to think about it too much, which wasn’t too difficult to manage when the table was full of lively conversation, playful banter, and affectionate teasing. 

It was approaching dusk when he left, a warm embrace and promise to visit again sometime before he set on his way back to the Akaashi estate. The walk was a bit lengthy, and Bokuto hadn’t brought a lantern, but maybe it was a testament to his name that he didn’t mind walking in the dark. 

Bokuto was happy to see the lanterns lit along the pathway of the gardens. He liked to imagine that they were lit just for him to find his way home, and the thought left a pep in his step as the hard sole of his boots clacked against the dirt and stones along the pathway. He even heard some owls off in the distance. 

When the manor finally crested into view, his heart dropped. In addition to Akaashi’s beautiful chaises, a third one with foreign shapes sat empty in the parkway. He immediately thought back to Kuroo, and to Komori; how Kuroo had stated that it was odd for Komori to be at that market since the Sakusa estate was not nearby, but the pieces fit together when Bokuto realized they were traveling from Akaashi’s estate to the market, not Sakusa’s. 

The twist and churn of his heart and gut only tightened like the vice grip of a crocodile’s grasp when he slipped into the manor, intending to slip into his bed in the staff quarters without a peep, but instead his feet carried him to the only candlelight flickering from crack in the door of Akaashi’s study. 

He peeked in briefly before charging back down the stairs, the residue of Sakusa’s cold gaze when their eyes had met through the crack of the door drowning Bokuto in a thick molasses. He didn’t really remember the journey to his bed, but he remembered curling up into the blankets, the image of Akaashi burrowed with eyes red and irate into Sakusa’s shoulder permeating through the dark -vivid behind Bokuto’s closed eyelids like the projection of northern lights in the sky- until exhaustion put Bokuto into a fitful, restless sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The worst part about being both a writer and and artist  
> is that sometimes I feel like doing one when I need to do the other.  
> Then I can't focus on either because if I should be writing,  
> but I feel like drawing, I'll think about drawing while I'm writing,  
> and if I am drawing when I should be writing,  
> I'll think about how I'm supposed to be writing right now  
> while I'm drawing  
> And then nothing gets done  
> And that's my long ass winded excuse for why this is a couple hours late lol
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	11. Homeward Bound

**[Chapter 11: Homeward Bound]**

Sleep was unkind to Bokuto. For several nights, he fought to rest his mind, and his body suffered for it. He sagged with exhaustion, his mind riddled with chaotic concerns that passed by too quickly while he remained too tired to pay them any attention. He swam in a current consisting solely of discohesion and clumsy, obsessive depression.

While Sakusa had been an indifferent cold to Bokuto previously, the incident in town with Komori had developed Sakusa’s gaze into something sharp and apprehending. Their eyes had only met briefly in the study when Bokuto had returned from his visit in town, but it left Bokuto restless and fraught. His discomfort grew with every day that Sakusa spent at the estate.

At every turn, Bokuto felt cold, analytical eyes watching. As he lay in bed at night, he worried it to be only his own paranoia. Sakusa spent three days visiting the Akaashi estate, which Konoha had explained was under the premise of ensuring Akaashi’s health according to Komori, but Bokuto didn’t believe it. When Bokuto explained what happened in town to Konoha, he only smiled pityingly and didn’t deny Bokuto’s suspicions. 

On the third and final consecutive day of Sakusa’s extended visit, Bokuto forked hay almost aggressively into one of the stalls for the horses, trying to focus on the familiar rhythmic movement instead of his emotions. 

But Bokuto had never been that great at keeping his emotions in check. 

Whenever he closed his eyes, he could see Akaashi curled up, crying into Sakusa’s shoulder like the image had been vividly embroidered into the back of his eyelids. It burned and churned his gut, upset that he hadn’t been there when he should have been _-that he had felt the need to return to support Akaashi but ignored it-_ and now Sakusa consumed Akaashi’s attentions, leaving Bokuto to shovel hay and manure. He crinkled his nose in disgust. 

Sakusa’s gaze was nothing like Akaashi’s. Akaashi looked upon Bokuto with soft eyes, non-judgemental and fond, where Sakusa’s gaze felt only frigid and piercing. The only thing similar between them was the way they seemed to always search for answers, analytical and attentive. 

Bokuto finished cleaning the final stall, placing the pitchfork back on the shelf and meandering back into the manor to retrieve the supplies he had left the previous day. He sighed, trying to force his thoughts away, but they came crawling back before they even left the front yard. 

It was not that Akaashi had been his normal analytical and attentive self as of recent weeks; his grief still consumed him some days, and his attentions seemed a little more distant, as if the windows of his eyes had drawn the curtains closed. Bokuto wanted Sakusa to leave, wanted to embrace Akaashi again at the riverside, or join in him rides upon the estate grounds. Sakusa was monopolizing Akaashi’s time. 

Jealousy was more than just unsightly, he knew that, but it ruined his appetite anyways. 

As Bokuto shuffled heavy feet across the floor of the estate, he dared to look into the parlour at the sound of content chatter. He knew what he would find, as he had found it there the last couple of days, but when he heard Akaashi’s soft laugh, a rare commodity, he glanced out of reflex. Akaashi, Konoha, Komori and Sakusa were sitting as they had been frequently, enjoying tea. Akaashi’s smile wasn’t quite genuine. He only nodded to Bokuto as he passed, the stablehand’s arms full of supplies to take to the stables. 

Bokuto had never felt more abandoned. 

His heart tugged at him painfully, and he tore himself away to drop the supplies off in the barn like intended. He barely felt the autumn chill in the air or the fine mist dusting his bare forearms, only conscious of the way his whole body felt heavier than he had ever experienced. 

Komi was ruffling Sarukui’s hair playfully when Bokuto walked in, his laugh high and uninhibited. Bokuto tried not to be sour at his own thoughts, his own wishes that it could be him and Akaashi instead. It wasn’t Sarukui or Komi’s fault, but he couldn’t help his own bitter jealousy at their seemingly perfect relationship. 

When Bokuto dropped the box of supplies roughly into the supply room, they hadn’t the chance to turn fully and face Bokuto before he had already begun to speak. 

“Komori saw Kuroo and me at the market and it’s my fault Sakusa is still here.” 

Bokuto didn’t look up to see the concerned pinch of eyebrows and hands that fell from Sarukui’s hair to dangle at Komi’s sides, limp and lifeless as if Bokuto’s unprompted exclamation had drained them. 

“I told Kuroo how I felt about Sakusa, and Komori overheard me. Now Sakusa has been here for days. It can’t be a coincidence,” Bokuto clarified, biting his bottom lip just hard enough to feel the pain and keep him grounded. 

He looked up when Komi’s hand rested on his bicep, a gesture of comfort that Komi had extended more than once in the past couple of days when Bokuto’s emotions left him down-spiraling. 

“Sakusa has never been one to care for the thoughts of others,” Komi assured, “Especially if they aren’t business partners.” 

“But Komori might.” 

“Komori-” 

“Komori overheard me talking to Kuroo about how close I am to Akaashi, and now Sakusa probably thinks I’m a threat… And now he’s going to do everything to keep me away from Akaashi… To keep Akaashi to himself. I can’t-” 

“Akaashi isn’t a prize for someone to take,” Sarukui interjected, “He makes his own decisions. He always has.” 

Bokuto tried to find comfort in those words, but silently put the supplies into their proper place when he came up empty. 

*** 

Sakusa left the same day, his chaise fading off into the distance of the stone pathway between the decorative bushes of Akaashi’s gardens. Bokuto was relieved to see him go, to have the estate return back to some resemblance of normalcy, but the assurances from Konoha that they would return shortly left Bokuto feeling anxious and oddly hollow. 

In subsequent weeks, he spent more time with Sarukui and Komi in the stables, not actively avoiding Akaashi, but inadvertently allowing Sakusa to further consume Akaashi’s time and attentions. Even on the days that Sakusa’s presence was absent, Bokuto only graced Akaashi’s presence when Akaashi sought him out, never going out of his way to see Akaashi. 

Spending time with Akaashi just made it more painful when Sakusa would return in the following days and Akaashi would spend his time entertaining the guest, as was proper of the host of the estate. Proper or otherwise, it hurt. 

The visits from Sakusa increased in frequency, the carriage parked comfortably in the entryway to the estate no less than twice weekly, and Bokuto begrudgingly tended to Sakusa’s horses more frequently than he would prefer. It wasn’t the fault of the horses, but Bokuto couldn’t help how bitter and crestfallen he felt. He would never belay his weakness on the animals, though, brushing through their coats and feeding them with the utmost care he could muster. 

The more Bokuto saw Akaashi and Sakusa together, preparing horses for them during the day or passing by the parlour in the evening, the more he sought to spend time outside of the estate. He visited Kuroo more frequently, trying to enjoy the company of his lifelong friends at his household, but the perceptive eye that Kuroo gave him only reminded him that he was avoiding his own problems. 

Kuroo never voiced his suspicions, but it was clear that he could see that Bokuto’s smile and rough housing with Yamamoto wasn’t at one hundred percent. Bokuto assumed that Kuroo most likely knew exactly what bothered him, and was kind enough to allow Bokuto to work through it on his own. 

It’s when Kuroo opted to join Bokuto in a supply run to town, usually a job reserved for Yukie, Suzumeda, or Konoha, that Bokuto began to feel less like he was being supported and more that he was being _babysat._

The realization dawned on him at the market stalls where Bokuto turned over fruit after fruit in his palms, pretending he were inspecting the quality as opposed to wasting time. Bokuto threw an apple into his basket a little too aggressively. 

“Why are you here, Kuroo?” 

Kuroo didn’t appear to be surprised by the question, nor Bokuto’s outburst. 

“Keeping you company,” he replied simply, “And maybe keeping you sane, if I can manage it.” 

Bokuto wanted desperately to be offended by Kuroo’s blunt admission, but couldn’t bring himself to, not when he had been taking such free advantage of Kuroo’s time lately. That did not mean it didn’t sting to hear, however. His mouth twisted, face contorting, but he didn’t respond. 

“I don’t know what’s happening at the Akaashi estate, but I know that you wouldn’t be spendin’ so much time with me if it was runnin’ as smoothly as it had been when I visited you a couple weeks past.” Kuroo kicked the dirt with the toe of his boot, and Bokuto’s eyes tracked the movement of a pebble rather than look directly at Kuroo. “I want to ensure you’ll be alright when it all ends.” 

“You mean when Sakusa runs me out and I move back to my parent’s home.” 

“If,” Kuroo corrected, “And to _your_ home, Bo. You own it now, where you let us measly vermin live.” 

“You’re not vermin, Kuroo,” Bokuto defended adamantly, “And I know, but you know how it makes me to be there... where I was never supposed to be.” 

Bokuto was unsure how to feel when Kuroo declined to respond. Kuroo only sighed, the tension melting from his shoulders and weight shifting. It felt as if Bokuto had both won and lost an argument simultaneously. It was minutely comforting when Kuroo’s hand slapped across his back, urging him to pay for his purchase so he could look at the fish in the next stall. 

A pat of solidarity, comfort and something resembling their usual banter. It was something that Bokuto didn’t know he had needed, but it seemed that Kuroo often knew his needs better than he did. 

Bokuto wordlessly bought Kuroo some fish for his trouble. 

*** 

Nearly a month into Sakusa’s reign of over-frequent visits, Bokuto walked past Akaashi’s study in the hour after lunch. He had been unceremoniously dismissed from the kitchen by Konoha and Komori, now aimlessly wandering the estate as if it were his sole purpose to haunt it. 

“Bokuto is the name of your stablehand, correct?” Sakusa asked softly, making Bokuto freeze in his path directly outside the door. 

He knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but Sakusa was talking to Akaashi about _him._ It set his nerves alight. 

Akaashi hummed, “Bokuto Koutarou.” 

Bokuto had forgotten how much he loved to hear Akaashi say his name. It felt like it had been an eternity since he last heard it. 

“He’s a bit peculiar,” Bokuto crinkled his nose and pinched his brow at the familiar descriptor, “A bit eccentric, with his hair and eyelashes.” 

Akaashi murmured something that Bokuto didn’t catch, something brief and so quiet Bokuto was unsure if Akaashi had even said anything at all. He only caught the familiar word of _Poliosis._ His condition. 

“It isn’t a bother for you to have such… unique staff?” 

Bokuto felt his breath quicken, his heart nearly drowning out the scant sound from the other side of the door. He realized he had pressed himself against the wood without noticing, desperate to hear what Akaashi has to say, to hear Akaashi say that Bokuto isn’t a burden, isn’t too strange for the household. 

He barely hears it, barely registers it but it’s there. 

“Bokuto is certainly not a bother, Sakusa.” 

Akaashi said something else, but Bokuto was too elated to hear it, too consumed in his relief that Akaashi would defend him, consumed in the painful twist of his heart that even here, some still think he is unsightly. He used to be so accustomed to ignoring the whispers of strangers in the streets, the comments people said when they thought he couldn’t hear, but the Akaashi estate had been his safe haven. 

A haven that had been invaded and dismantled by Sakusa who seemed to care for Bokuto as much as he would care for an unsightly cattle in the pasture. He had nearly forgotten about his condition. Nearly. 

It overwhelmed Bokuto to think he can be so easily discarded, as if Sakusa didn’t even think of him as a person. Although the pain was familiar, buried so deep within himself that he had blissfully forgotten it, it burned as if it were his own parents disregarding their own child, leaving him on the stoop without a care. 

Bokuto couldn’t see the way that Akaashi smiled when he talked about Bokuto. 

*** 

With the stretch of leather and clink of metal clasps, Bokuto fastened the girth of a saddle across the belly of a bay mare. Sakusa’s mare had a habit of bloating, filling its belly with air while he synched the saddle to keep the girth from being tight. He walked the mare in circles, trying to encourage it to exhale, let him draw the girth tight enough that the saddle didn’t slip. He put his leg against the mare’s stomach and pushed, fighting the stubborn mare as patiently as he could. 

Or he could disregard it as Sakusa had disregarded him. Let Sakusa slip from the back and fall to the rocky riverbed below. 

Bokuto pulled the girth too tight too suddenly, the horse side stepping onto his foot in an attempt to regain its balance as Bokuto cursed with trembling hands. His own thoughts terrified him. He hated how easily he could see it happening in his mind, that he had even considered purposely hurting someone else, even if Sakusa didn’t treat him like a person. 

Sakusa might not treat Bokuto like he was someone who mattered, but that doesn’t mean he should _sabotage_ him, imagining the crack of skull on river rocks and- 

He hated who he was becoming. Bokuto felt as if he hadn’t been himself in weeks. His hands trembled and he blinked away raw tears as he fastened the buckle of the girth, checked to make sure it wasn’t too tight -because he would fall apart if he had hurt the mare- and kicked the toe of his shoe to the floor. He flexed his toes a couple times. 

Nothing was fractured. His toes hurt, but nothing had broken. Maybe it should have been. 

Bokuto took deep breaths, his shoulders shuddering with each exhale, each attempt to calm himself. He apologized to the mare, she didn’t deserve such rough treatment, and brought the bit into the horse’s mouth before fixing the bridle. Focusing on preparing the two horses for the rest of the time helped Bokuto keep from falling apart completely. 

He thought about how well Fukuro was doing, how beautiful he had grown in the last few months. Akaashi looked radiant riding him, and how Bokuto missed taking rides around the estate together. No matter how Bokuto tried, his thoughts spiraled back, encompassing him in the panic that he hated who he was becoming. 

This wasn’t who Bokuto wanted to be. 

Konoha and Komori entered shortly after Bokuto was finished with Sakusa and Akaashi in tow. Bokuto couldn’t look at Sakusa in the face, not that he had ever felt comfortable doing so. He handed the reigns to both of them, hid his face from Akaashi’s perceptive eye, and took his leave. 

Bokuto was laying in a pile of hay, staring blankly at the cobwebs on the ceiling of the barn when Sarukui and Komi found him nearly an hour later. 

“I might go live with Kuroo again.” said Bokuto, never turning his head to see them standing in the entryway of the loft. 

Komi made a squawking noise, moving to protest, but Sarukui rested a hand on his waist. Bokuto closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. He listened to the scuff of shoes on wood and indignant huff from Komi. 

“I think it would be better for me, for everyone else.” 

“Why?” Komi spat, untethered by Sarukui, “Why would you just leave? That doesn’t make any sense, Bokuto.” 

A glance at Sarukui told Bokuto that even if Komi didn’t understand, Sarukui did. Bokuto found Sarukui’s smile merciful, almost pitying. He couldn’t look at it. 

“It’s not for sure,” Bokuto mumbled, ignoring Komi’s question, “I’m just thinkin’ about it.” 

“It’s not anyone’s wish,” Sarukui stated quietly, “But it’s your decision to make.” 

Bokuto nodded. 

When Sarukui pulled Komi away with whispers that he would explain for him, Bokuto drifted off for a nap in the hay pile, relieved that behind his eyes no longer stood Sakusa and Akaashi, but instead his parent’s home, Kuroo’s home. It wasn’t what he wanted to see, but it was better than the alternative. 

*** 

Konoha handed a cup of tea to Komori, relaxing his hip back against the kitchen counter and hugging his own warm cup to his chest. Komori was chatting calmly, although Konoha fought to remain focused. He found himself distracted by Bokuto’s behavior, the way he had avoided Akaashi’s eye in the stable earlier and seemed to slink away as if filled with guilt. He had seen much of Bokuto in the several months they lived and worked together, but this gnawed at Konoha hungrily, devouring his attentions. 

Komori laughed, and Konoha smiled at the sound, watched his head tilt back and hands grasp his teacup securely, always carefree and relaxing. He wished he could be as politely blithe as Komori, seemingly untroubled by the affairs of others. It was a truly enviable skill. Though, he supposed when he lived with someone as intimidating as Sakusa… Well, there was something to be said for Komori’s doting patience and unbothered nature. 

Konoha resisted a snort, settling for a smirk. It was probably a coping mechanism. 

Just as Komori wiped a stray tear from his eye, there was a shuffling sound behind him and Konoha glanced to see Sarukui standing in the doorway of the kitchen. He rested his hand on the doorframe, leaning his weight slightly to the side and eyebrows furrowed slightly. 

Unusual. 

“Saru,” Konoha greeted curiously, conscious of Komori’s shifting attentions, “You seem a bit frazzled.” 

Sarukui stepped into the kitchen, eyeing Komori cautiously, and Konoha never realized how nervous it made him to have Sarukui in the kitchen again. He couldn’t decide if he attributed the nerves to Sarukui’s one and only attempt at cooking that made the whole house fall ill, or because Sarukui most certainly had what appeared to be an irate hand print across his cheek. A bit of both, perhaps. 

Komori’s silent stare and raised eyebrows conveyed that he had likely noticed the mark on Sarukui’s face as well. 

“Bokuto,” Sarukui paused, glancing from Komori to Konoha until Konoha waved at him to continue regardless of the presence of a guest, “Ah, Bokuto is considering leaving.” 

“Leaving…?” Konoha inquired warily, “The estate?” 

Sarukui nodded, and Konoha felt his heart drop. Despite their initial conflicts, Konoha had grown a bit fond of the eccentric stablehand. 

“I thought it would be pertinent for you to know.” 

“Why?” 

Konoha startled visibly when the question was asked by Komori before Konoha could verbalize it himself. 

“I’m not sure it’s my place to say,” Sarukui said slowly, and Konoha recognized to interpret it as _I am not going to say this in front of Komori._

His guest seemed to notice it as well, his smile just as bright and uninhibited as Konoha had ever seen it. Bokuto had described a time when this may not have been the case, but Konoha couldn’t imagine it. 

Komori waved his hand dismissively, “My apologies, truly. It was no business of mine to inquire. I can grant you privacy if you would prefer, wait in the parlour, perhaps.” 

Konoha shook his head slowly, still processing that Bokuto may take leave of the estate, and pondering the reason. Even if it wasn’t explicitly stated, he could only assume it must have been due to recent events with Sakusa. It was difficult not to notice the decline in Bokuto’s mood with each visit. Although there had not been direct conflict, the tension between them at every interaction was palpable and suffocating. 

“What happened to your cheek?” he asked instead, his eyebrow quirked. He was fairly certain he knew the cause, but it couldn’t hurt to be sure. 

“Komi,” was all the answer he received, and the only answer he needed. 

“I assumed such,” Konoha snorted. 

He heard Komori laugh softly, watched him cover his mouth politely with his hand in Konoha’s peripherals. Whether Komori was laughing at Sarukui’s short answer or Konoha’s unappealing snort, he didn’t know, but he was fine with either. He enjoyed Komori’s company. 

With a bow, Sarukui dismissed himself and walked from the kitchen, leaving Konoha and Komori to ponder their own thoughts. Konoha listened to the monotonous tick of the clock and sipped his tea quietly. 

“How long has Bokuto worked here at the Akaashi estate?” Komori asked after a moment of silence. 

“About eight months, now. He was hired by the late masters this recent spring to assist Akaashi in taking care of the newborn foal this year.” 

“That’s not terribly long at all,” Komori mused, and Konoha nodded in agreement. It honestly felt like much longer, as if he had known Bokuto for more than the short eight months between April and November. He attributed the acute feeling of familiarity with the recent events they had endured together. 

Konoha felt conflicted. He was unsure if he wanted Bokuto to stay if it meant further conflict between Bokuto and Sakusa, but he had seen how well Bokuto helped Akaashi, kept him afloat through thick and thin. Bokuto had proven his ability and willingness to dedicate his entirety to Akaashi between injury and illness, and even amongst the recent grief. 

Sugawara had pulled Akaashi to his feet, but Bokuto had carried him for weeks, allotting all his time and energy to being Akaashi’s aide. 

From the kitchen window, Konoha and Komori watched the silhouettes of Akaashi and Sakusa on horseback, their ride coming to an end as they traveled from the riverbed towards the stables. Konoha watched Akaashi carefully, the subtle gestures and polite smiles, all unlike the genuine laughs and smirks he would give Bokuto. He was acutely aware of Komori beside him, how his eyes would flicker from Konoha to the window and back again. 

If Bokuto left the estate, Konoha feared for what might become of Akaashi. Akaashi’s stability was still fragile, still recovering from having the building blocks taken from beneath him, and at least temporarily, Bokuto had substituted for that foundation. Konoha was unsure that Sakusa could provide that level of support, not in the manner that Akaashi needed. 

And if Bokuto left, Konoha was certain he would be incapable of filling the gaps. 

It was something he would need to discuss with Akaashi when Sakusa and Komori departed, perhaps. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the petite chapter!  
> The next chapter will show us how Akaashi feels throughout this.  
> And I assure you that Sakusa will be redeemed here. _Promise._  
>  Plus, some more Daishou, and a bit more intimate SakuAka! <3 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has dedicated the time to comment and support!  
> ✧*｡٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و✧*｡


	12. Where We Stand

**[Chapter 12: Where We Stand]**

Akaashi pulled the laces of his boots tight, the stretch of leather audible in the silence of his study. He furrowed his brows as the leather snapped, methodically removing the broken lace from the shoe with deficient dexterity and rummaging into his desk for a new one. It was a relatively new lace, and shouldn’t have snapped so easily, but Akaashi was too distracted to be anything more than inconvenienced by it.

He often found his thoughts caught between emptiness and racing, very rarely in any state otherwise. Sakusa’s recent visits had been both an excellent distraction and a vital catalyst for his mind to spin and hollow out, leaving him exhausted and pliant. Akaashi recognized that the visits had been increasing in their frequency, leaving him to entertain guests at his estate at least twice weekly, sometimes for more than one day at a time. 

It felt admittedly exasperating. Sakusa was by no means poor company, his intelligence and wit entertaining, but his perceptive eye left Akaashi feeling exposed, as if Sakusa could see the lead he carried within him since his parent’s passing. He seemed keenly aware of it at all times, and Akaashi felt uncomfortably encompassed by the tickle of his own grief at the back of his thoughts whenever they spoke. Sakusa also required a sense of sociability and care about him, as was traditional for aristocrats, and Akaashi missed the unbridled sincerity and bright smiles from his housemates, from Bokuto. 

He missed when Bokuto would coerce him to ride Fukuro again, and when he would laugh and smile so bright it eased Akaashi’s pain, if only for a little while. Being around Bokuto was easy and relieving, a natural analgesic. 

At times, Akaashi felt as if he was calmly drowning, submerged in his own schedule and emotional malleability. He greatly lacked the energy or care to swim himself to the surface most days, just floating buoyantly, not quite at the bottom but too far to reach up to the surface. 

He enjoyed his rides with Sakusa well enough, the company polite and never pushing for more than Akaashi could handle. It often danced along the edge of Akaashi’s comfort, but never stepped across, as if Sakusa was acutely aware of where the line stood at all times. Sakusa had become more bold, more confident as each visit passed, a lingering hand at the small of his back with fingers curling along his hip, a chaste kiss farewell on the cheek or brow before he departed for his own estate. Unabashed is how Akaashi would describe it. 

He had been consuming, _monopolizing_ all of Akaashi’s time and attentions, and while Akaashi was not directly in opposition to it, he wasn’t in direct support, either. 

Akaashi remained unsure of exactly where he stood. 

They had never properly discussed any form of courtship or engagement, but Akaashi was certain it was assumed by Sakusa to be so. He was rather esteemed by the community for both his wealth and quiet charm, which seemed to outweigh the public distaste for his aversions. 

When a gentle knock rapped on his door, Akaashi was unsurprised to see Konoha escorting Sakusa inside. After their debacle that felt so long ago, Konoha had been near religious about providing Akaashi with proper warning to every one of Sakusa’s visits. It was rather appreciated, truly. 

Akaashi finished tightening the lace in his boot, standing to greet his guest properly. Konoha dismissed himself and Akaashi watched Komori take leave with him. They had been engaging in conversation frequently, at every visit to the Akaashi estate. He was contented to see Konoha on the mend. Komori was good company, always bright and cheerful, but more polite than Sugawara had ever been, and certainly more than Bokuto. Not that Konoha was the epitome of polite mannerisms. 

“Akaashi,” Sakusa greeted quietly, a press of soft lips to the back of Akaashi’s hand. That had been occurring more often as well, and every single occurrence of it reminded Akaashi of Daishou. He tried not to allow his thoughts to dwell on it. 

With only a nod and shallow smile, he was certain that Sakusa saw right through it, saw that Akaashi’s mind felt weighted and weary, as it did so often. Sakusa’s gaze never faltered, his arm always extended as a silent branch of support that Akaashi would cling to during their visits. It was welcomed, although Akaashi still wished it were… _brighter._

When Sakusa welcomed him into an embrace and traces comforting patterns on his back, it felt different. It’s gentler, confident yet tentative with elegant designs that Akaashi can imagine in his mind’s eye if he focused on the sensation. It’s a distraction from his thoughts, something he has found he needed more frequently as of late, his mind consumed with quandaries of _who, what,_ and _why._

Akaashi admittedly didn’t feel he knew what he was doing anymore. He followed the schedules that are provided to him by Konoha, going through the motions of entertaining Sakusa and Komori, of meeting for business dealings and having his evening tea with Konoha nightly. The days blurred together, and Akaashi often found himself unable to discern the day of the week, let alone the hour. 

It was either day or night, with or without company. There was no adamant structure he was mindful to other than what Konoha had told him of his schedule that day. He wasn’t even sure what day it was. It was as if every moment spent since his parent’s passing were that of a trance: hollow, malleable, and apathetic. He was vaguely aware of the increasing chill in the air as winter approached, and of his frequently missed rides with Bokuto. He yearned for those. 

Bokuto hadn’t encouraged him to ride in some time though, and without the push, Akaashi lacks the incentive to do much of anything. 

Akaashi felt as if he were only following the currents set by those around him, no longer managing his own sails and treading water as the chill seeped beyond his clothes and skin to reach his very bones. His depression and apathy were all consuming, exhausting him regularly and smothering him in a dark blanket whose cover was given reprieve by Bokuto’s sunny disposition. On the rare occasion he would spend time in Bokuto’s company, of course. 

Between his business and Sakusa’s visits, Akaashi considered those experiences endangered, well on their way to becoming extinct, along with Akaashi’s ability to care. 

He breathed slowly, his mind dizzying in Sakusa’s grasp. He didn’t realize he was crying until he hiccupped and Sakusa pulled him closer. His own body felt distant from him. If he closed his eyes for too long, he saw himself from the view of another, withered and tired despite having the day only just begun. 

Perhaps, he should call upon Sugawara for his company. Suga had always been a beacon of unconditional support and reasoning, his very being the element of refreshing spring brooks and blinding smiles. Akaashi found himself craving that warmth and light, the nights spent in the study with a bottle of whiskey between them and eyes about the stars. 

Akaashi realized a bit belatedly that the only reason he felt functional and at wits before was due to comfort and support from Sugawara and Bokuto. 

_Bokuto._

“I’m sorry,” Akaashi found himself mumbling, detaching from Sakusa who watched him curiously, “Please, pardon me. Would you like to ride about the pasture?” 

“If it would be of help to you, Akaashi. You need not apologize to me.” 

Akaashi offered him a weak smile in return. He would address his emotional needs later, when his company left and he could dwell upon it in his study over tea with Konoha. Sakusa smiled handsomely, a gentle press of lips to his forehead before he followed Akaashi from the study to the stables. Akaashi paid it no mind. It had become a sort of custom with Sakusa. 

The ride was calm, quiet. Sakusa wasn’t a particularly chatty person, which Akaashi appreciated. He enjoyed seeing Bokuto again, even if it were only brief. Bokuto’s avoidance of Sakusa was not lost on Akaashi. They were very different people. He knew they didn’t quite see eye to eye. 

The silence allowed Akaashi’s mind to wander, to consider Daishou, his parents, and Bokuto. They watched rabbits scurry across the ground below, the chatter of squirrels in the nearby trees and rush of the river rapids east of where they rode. It reminded Akaashi that the world would continue with or without him. 

He still felt he didn’t comprehend Sakusa’s relationship with Daishou, or really comprehend Daishou at all. The question often gnawed at Akaashi, but in the one instance he had brought up Daishou to Sakusa, he had been quick to change the subject. 

It only left Akaashi more inquisitive and eager. 

He wanted to know why Daishou had been in Iwaizumi’s establishment the day of Akaashi’s orphaning, why Daishou expressed himself to be so familiar with the Akaashi family, and what exactly he and Sakusa had in common. The more he thought about it, the more confusing it became. 

“Feeling at wits, Akaashi?” 

Akaashi blinked, clearing his mind of the thought and met his gaze with Sakusa’s. Concerned brows, searching eyes… Sakusa looked _worried._

“Just a little wrapped within my own thoughts,” Akaashi offered him a smile, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to cause you concern. I’m just a little distracted today, it seems.” Distracted by what exactly, Akaashi was tempted to say, to ask about Daishou, but licked his lips and pursed them instead. 

“If there’s anything I can do to assist…” Sakusa trailed off with a deep breath, “I know recent events have been rather… tough on you.” 

Akaashi didn’t miss the hesitance. Sakusa never hesitated, only carefully calculating. 

He hummed quietly, allowing the conversation to dwindle away, not unlike the leaf riding the current of the river beside them. 

“Since the passing of the late masters, you have been handling all of the business independently?” Akaashi blinked at the subject change. 

“Yes, I have.” 

“You have none to assist you? Not even your assistant aids you?” 

“Konoha aids when he is able,” Akaashi watches Sakusa shift in the saddle, “All other appointments and operations are run solely by myself. Might I inquire upon your interest, Sakusa?” 

“I wanted only to offer my own assistance if you were ever to need it. Simply call upon Komori or myself.” 

“Oh. Thank you, Sakusa. I appreciate it greatly.” 

Sakusa offered him a rare smile, and Akaashi returned it as warmly as he could muster. They had never explicitly discussed business, their discussions usually trending to leisure and less delicate matters, and Akaashi found himself stealing glances at Sakusa as they meandered along the bank of the river. 

He wondered how Sakusa had gone from Akaashi's parents to his business dealings, pondered if they were related, if maybe this was his connection to Daishou, if Daishou’s connection to Akaashi was through business; his mind swirled in a cacophony of half thoughts all frustratingly close but missing a final piece or two. 

They arrived back at the estate near dusk, the chill showing their breath in shallow puffs of air that hung like a noose at the gallows. Bokuto was waiting for them, truthfully just for Akaashi, hands tucked under his arms for warmth in the cold air of the stables. His teeth worried his bottom lip. 

“How was your ride, Akaashi?” Bokuto greeted as always, his smile not as bright as Akaashi remembered, but still enough. 

“It was fine, Bokuto.” Akaashi handed him the reins of both horses, conscious of Sakusa standing nearby, “Please take good care of the horses this evening. It’s quite cold.” 

Bokuto nodded enthusiastically, dismissing himself with a bow to Sakusa and leading the horses away. The bow always seemed like too much to Akaashi, but he knew Sakusa appreciated it, expected it, even. He was happy that Bokuto never felt the need to uphold such formalities when it was just them together. 

Akaashi hung his gloves in the tack room, conscious of Sakusa at his back admiring the leather bridles and leaving his own riding gloves on a hook near the door. It had been a guest place, but with Sakusa's frequent visits, he had wordlessly adopted the space for himself. Akaashi’s body waited, feeling almost Pavlovian in nature how he knew and paused for Sakusa's arms to curl around his waist, his head to tuck into the crook of his shoulder and thank him for his company. 

He never really thought about it. It just had become normal, a routine he accepted without dispute as if it were a common expectation of him. He wasn’t sure he could pinpoint exactly when the habit had begun. 

Akaashi hadn't expected hands to turn him about face, for cold fingers to caress his cheek and fond eyes to search his. Sakusa kissed slow and deep, fingers threading through Akaashi's hair and breath hot against Akaashi's cold skin. Akaashi didn't know why he kissed him back, didn't really feel as if he was living in his own body, just followed the motions as someone else pulled the strings of his marionette. He felt the heat, every touch as if it were another person, gasping softly for breath when Sakusa relaxed before humming against his lips as if to consider the taste. 

Kissing Sakusa hadn’t felt wrong. It simply felt like _nothing._

Nothing wasn’t quite accurate, either. 

Akaashi’s heart simply hadn’t fluttered as it had with chaste kisses and touch from Bokuto, hadn’t left him feeling like a hummingbird in spring, his skin itself thrumming and electric, energy just below the surface of his skin. It felt as if it were only a dull murmur to Bokuto’s unignorable excitement and sincerity, and perhaps if Bokuto hadn’t become Akaashi’s stablehand, hadn’t become the pillar of support that Akaashi so desperately thrived upon, Akaashi might have been satisfied, content _-happy, even-_ with Sakusa’s calm. 

However, that was not the case. 

Heat coiled in Akaashi’s abdomen, his body responded, but the emotional investment lacked. Instead, he simply followed the motions, lethargically acknowledged the voice that claimed this was not worthy of his time and the consequences that may follow, and allowed his mind to wander from him. Where it went, he wasn’t sure, never bothered to remember, but it often was better than being with him. 

Konoha and Komori escorted Daishou into Akaashi’s stables nearly a half hour later, thankfully while Akaashi and Sakusa had been only admiring the horses and grooming Fukuro. Sakusa seemed to understand Akaashi’s affinity for the animals, never questioned when he would groom them himself or spend his time with them, even if he had once questioned Akaashi’s decision to train Bokuto in horseriding instead of delegate the work to Komi. 

Daishou, however, watched with sharp, curious eyes that seemed to judge every movement. Every stroke of the brush across fur was followed almost hypnotically, even as he leaned in to whisper private words into Sakusa’s ear. Discomfort churned sourly in Akaashi’s stomach, and he thought about questioning Daishou, asking _how he knew Kuroo, what he had been doing in Iwaizumi’s office, what his connections were, why he always looked ready to devour anything that stood in his path with a mouth wide as a snake-_

“Sir Akaashi,” Daishou greeted with a familiar kiss to Akaashi’s hand, and he resisted the urge to squirm at the touch, “Always pleasant to see you again. Sorry to have to steal Sakusa from you.” 

Akaashi hummed, watched Daishou smile wide enough to crinkle his eyes and dimple his cheeks. 

“I hope all is well,” Akaashi replied slowly, recalling that this indeed was not within the schedule Konoha had provided, that Sakusa had instead planned to stay at the Akaashi estate overnight, “If there is anything I can do, I would be happy to oblige.” 

He considered saying he would miss Sakusa’s company, the words on the tip of his tongue, tickling the back of his teeth, but he couldn’t seem to give them shape. They wouldn’t be true, although he couldn’t say for certain that they would remain entirely untrue, either. Sakusa often seemed to be an odd middle ground for Akaashi, an achromatic painting in an achromatic gallery. Interesting, complex, possibly compelling, but ultimately colorless. 

Daishou’s smile wavered, a vague flicker of an emotion Akaashi couldn’t place. 

“You already do so much. I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Before Akaashi could open his mouth to respond, to ask how he possibly had been contributing anything to anyone for any purpose, _especially for Daishou,_ Sakusa slipped Daishou out the door and instructed Komori to escort him through the estate to ensure the chaise was prepared for their immediate departure. 

“I will return as soon as I am able,” Sakusa caressed Akaashi’s cheek as soon as he returned to his side, his eyes fond but the tremble in his hand betrayed his crumbling composure, “I apologize for being called away so abruptly. My offer still stands, Akaashi. If you need anything, simply call upon myself or Komori.” 

Akaashi studied his expression, the furrow in his brow, cheeks and nose tinted pink from the cold and lips parted just slightly. He had yet to see Sakusa so perturbed. 

“Of course.” 

A soft kiss to Akaashi’s forehead, a forced smile, and he was gone. It was the most human Akaashi had ever seen him. 

Akaashi couldn’t even move his feet from the wooden floors of the stable, his thoughts a whirl of indignant shock and frustration that every time he saw Daishou, he was left with more questions than he had begun. He had often heard that it was better to feel frustration, anger, even pain, than to feel nothing at all, but at this moment he had been sincerely doubting the truth of such a sentiment. 

A deep breath. Two. He ran his fingers through the locks of his hair and stared at the ceiling. 

“Akaashi?” 

Konoha. Right. Konoha was still there watching Akaashi’s composure waiver. Not that Konoha hadn’t witnessed Akaashi in an assortment of disconcerting states the last few months. 

“I’m fine, Konoha. Please, fetch me when dinner is prepared. I’m going to groom Fukuro a bit longer.” 

A quick glance to Konoha, and Akaashi saw a skeptical quick of a blond eyebrow and concerned eyes, as if he were contemplating saying otherwise, but he obediently left the stables without another word. 

Akaashi didn’t enjoy it, didn’t appreciate even Konoha seeing him so poorly composed and at the end of his wits, though he wondered if Konoha preferred to see him discontented rather than simply hollow or numb. Maybe Konoha, like many others, preferred pain and anger to emptiness. A sign that Akaashi was on the mend, perhaps. 

Akaashi had thought he had been mending weeks ago when he cried on Sugawara’s shoulder and near drowned in whiskey… when he spent time almost daily riding the horses with Bokuto. His time with Sakusa in recent weeks felt like a relapse. 

He felt more at ease than he had in awhile though, fidgeting with his fingers and grasping the mahogany brush Bokuto had bought him all that time ago. Although, seeing Daishou had left him irate. Perhaps the frustration simply made him feel more awake than anything else. He assumed being lucid was what others inferred as preferable to being hollow. 

Bokuto shuffled into the stables from the pasture, distracting Akaashi from his thoughts with the rustle of clothes and clop of hooves as he lead horses into stalls for the night. He came and went, a mess of noise as Akaashi brushed through Fukuro’s mane and tail, carefully detangling knots with careful fingers and admiring the progress Fukuro had made in his training over the past year, how beautifully he had grown from colt to stallion. 

The horses were always calming, always a place where Akaashi could just _be._

He ran his fingers through the dappled strands of greys and whites in Fukuro’s mane, musing how they reminded him of Bokuto, how Fukuro himself reminded Akaashi of Bokuto. Headstrong, a bit silly and stubborn, but always loyal, genuine, and affectionate. Even Fukuro’s eyes reminded him of Bokuto’s, maybe not in color but how there always seemed to be a glint within them, something a bit wild and exciting. 

The glint from Bokuto’s eyes seemed dim recently, subdued. Or perhaps they had only grown distant as Akaashi had become from the world around him. 

Akaashi rested his forehead against Fukuro’s neck, breathed deeply and attempted to relax. He hadn’t felt at wits for weeks, admittedly didn’t know what he was doing with his life anymore, the lack of control he maintained continued to be a distant nightmare that haunted his lucid hours. The world moved around him, left him behind. He gripped a fist into Fukuro’s mane, hugged around the horse’s neck and sighed. 

Time was a blur at best, an illusion at worst, where Akaashi felt as though he were drowning. Submerged, he couldn’t hear the world around him properly, couldn’t seem to connect with those around him, his vision distorted. It was always easier to keep his eyes closed underwater, allow himself to be blind, to float in neutral buoyancy. 

He released his vice grip on Fukuro’s mane, stretched his fingers and listened to the protest of his joints in the cold. Fukuro was decent company, leaned into Akaashi when he stepped back like he missed Akaashi’s warmth, but it wasn’t enough. 

Akaashi felt lonely. 

He spent a fair amount of time in the company of Sakusa and Komori, his evenings most often spent in his study with Konoha, but he never felt connected to them, never truly engaged with them. With a weak smile, Akaashi stroked his fingers through Fukuro’s mane, working through the light tangles he had infused with his own grasp moments before. 

“Do Fukuro and I really look that alike, Akaashi?” 

Akaashi startled at the voice, turning to see Bokuto dangling halfway into the stall with an uneasy lopsided grin, his hand grasping high on the doorframe and eyes brighter than Akaashi had seen in awhile. He didn’t recall saying anything out loud, but he was also more than certain Bokuto couldn’t read his thoughts. He wondered how much exactly he must have muttered verbally. 

He would address his interesting new habit of thinking aloud later. 

“You shouldn’t eavesdrop, Bokuto. It’s rude.” 

Bokuto hummed, “But do we really match, Akaashi? Fukuro and me? He’s a good horse. He’s even named after owls. I think he knows what an honor that is.” 

“You’re named after owls, Bokuto.” Akaashi smiled. He had missed the silly conversations they had. 

Bokuto nodded enthusiastically like it was the best thing anyone had told him in months, and maybe it was. 

“You’re smiling, Akaashi. You haven’t been smiling much lately.” 

His arm dropped from the doorway and he stepped further into the stall, cocking his head to the side not unlike an inquisitive bird eager to have a closer look. Bokuto frowned when Akaashi’s smile faded. 

“You should ride Fukuro more. He misses you, and you were happier when you were riding more. I… I don’t think-” Bokuto chewed his lip, his eyes looking anywhere but Akaashi, “I… It’s not… You should- It’s not my place to say.” 

Bokuto had never hesitated to speak before, never showed any inclination to hide his own opinions, and Akaashi frowned, his eyebrows pinched together and dropped the mahogany brush to the floor of the stall with a clatter. 

“Bokuto-” 

“Just do what makes you happy, Akaashi?” 

It shouldn’t have been phrased as a question, but Bokuto ran his hands through his hair and breathed a pained sigh, as if just speaking the words had hurt him. 

“I will try, Bokuto.” Akaashi resigned, unsure to what exactly he had agreed to, “But you must ensure to do the same.” 

Bokuto seemed surprised, blinking with wide golden eyes that crinkled slightly in the corners when his mouth split into a grin. 

“Okay,” He spun and stepped out of the stall, turning the corner to disappear from Akaashi’s sight but popped his head back into the stall before he ventured too far, “Akaashi? You should try to smile more.” 

Akaashi wasn’t sure he could promise that, but he would try. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _aha oh boy_   
>  So I'm not dead  
> Sorry for going on an unplanned like... 10 week hiatus..   
> I have a whole slew of excuses but none of them matter cause the fic will continue!!   
> And in the end, that's what matters, right? *sweats*   
> Anyways  
> Thank you to those who left comments!  
> It helped motivate me to update despite all that I've been dealing with lately.   
> So thank you, truly <3   
> There is only 4 more chapters left,   
> and the next chapter will be quite a doozy, both in length and content.   
> Everything _should_ return to normal schedule, if not more frequent updates.   
>  Sorry again for the wait. T-T 
> 
> Thank you for all the support!
> 
> Next chapter:  
> -A letter from Daishou  
> -Who Sakusa really is  
> -Sugawara and Yaku appear again!   
> -Enter Kenma  
> -Akaashi makes a life changing decision


	13. Dawnbreak and Nightfall

The letter arrived at the Akaashi estate at the first light of dawn, delivered to Akaashi's private quarters by Konoha with a wide yawn and a sleepy droop of his eyelids. He bade Akaashi with privacy, stumbling on stiff legs down the stairs as if he had only been awake for mere second rather than the whole of an hour. Akaashi carefully opened the envelope with a bone letter opener and frowned at the lack of familiarity in its stationary.

He traced a fingertip around the gold leaf seal at the top of the page, a serpent coiled around an orchid. Peculiar, but lovely nonetheless, and most certainly unfamiliar. 

> _To the fair Akaashi Keiji,_
> 
> _I hope this letter finds you in good health. I know we had seen one another only ereyesterday, but I saw it pertinent to write this to you promptly. The thought has been gnawing on my conscious for nearly a fortnight before I saw fit to write this to you despite recommendations and my own better judgement. It has already been too long that you have not been informed of the rightful cause of the passing of the late masters Akaashi._
> 
> _The details should be provided to you in the confidence of your study; however, in the interest of pertinence and your own sanity, I will convey to you that the passing of the late masters was not at the hands of robbery, but rather a personal act of malice._
> 
> _I will be visiting your estate as soon as I am able to further detail the matter for you._
> 
> _Best Regards,_
> 
> _Daishou Suguru_
> 
> _Nohebi Craftsmen Industries_

Staring at the fine scrawl of ink upon the page accomplished nothing to calm Akaashi. With every tremble of the paper in his grasp, his brow furrowed further, eyes incredulous at the implication that an act resembling a personal vendetta had brought upon Akaashi’s orphaning. Petty, cowardly, _despicable-_

But even more so, Akaashi found the news bewildering, perhaps too outlandish. Akaashi knew of no business that would have crafted such a sour opposition to his father and the company that Akaashi now upheld, and whether or not Akaashi could trust the information provided by Daishou stood to be dubious at best. He skimmed over the words of the letter again and again as though it would bring forth clarity, but found himself only bitter at lack of specified date in which Daishou would arrive at the estate to elaborate. 

A deep breath, and Akaashi tenderly folded the stationary upon the original creases, tucking it back within its envelope in time for Konoha to knock at the door of his quarters. 

“Breakfast will be ready within the quarter hour,” Konoha peeked through the door, pausing to watch Akaashi cautiously. “Who was the letter from?” 

“Daishou.” The name felt strange on Akaashi’s tongue. “Please send out a letter of cancellation and my condolences for the short notice to Sakusa for today’s visit.” 

Konoha slipped through the doorway, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He heaved a sigh so deep it left Akaashi shifting his weight uncomfortably. 

“Is there something I can help with?” asked Konoha. 

“I just told you-” 

“Cancel with Sakusa and Komori, of course. But, Akaashi, you’re trembling. What did Sir Daishou convey in his letter?” 

“I’m not ready to discuss it.” The words slipped from Akaashi’s lips with a weight to break the floor beneath his feet, but the echo of it in the room lay absent, the air silent and dense. Akaashi never withheld from Konoha, and as much as he valued Konoha’s input, there were matters he wished to attend to first. 

Including his own consideration of the contents of Daishou’s letter. 

Konoha eyed him warily, untrusting of Akaashi’s own words, “When you are ready, then.” 

“Please send Washio to prepare the chaise, and Bokuto to prepare the horses. I will be visiting Sugawara at his estate today promptly after breakfast.” 

“Sugawara?” 

“I’m in need of variety in my company.” 

_“Variety,”_ Konoha scoffed quietly, “Need you anything else? A truth serum perhaps?” 

Akaashi ignored the retort. For a brief moment, he wondered how Konoha would truly do in a household with Sakusa. Such a sharp tongue wouldn’t be tolerated from a housestaff. He laughed dryly at the thought. 

“I will be down for breakfast shortly,” he said instead, listening to the shuffle of footsteps and the unintelligible mutter as Konoha slipped downstairs. The familiarity of it made him smile. 

The discontent and suspicion from Konoha only increased tenfold when Akaashi specified that he would be riding the journey without him, leaving only Akaashi in the chaise and Washio to drive. 

“The solace of the ride serves to clear the mind,” Akaashi stated, a pitiful excuse that Konoha paid no mind to, his eyes narrow and lips pursed. 

Konoha barely bid his journey safe tidings as Akaashi sat within the cab of the carriage, the creak of wood and steady rhythm of hooves on the cobblestone a lullaby in the freezing rain. He pulled his jacket more secure around him to fight the chill, rested his head back to stare at the ceiling pensively. 

_Exhausted._ Although the night terrors had faded away in time, his nights were spent restless in his study or laying upon his bed, his gaze hollow and blind to the world around him. Akaashi saw only the inside of his thoughts, thoughts he was certain would now be consumed with who would want his parents to expire so violently when he should be concerned for sleep. 

Sugawara welcomed Akaashi into his estate with the brightest smile Akaashi had witnessed in months, his hair as light as the freezing rain splattered on the windowpane and cheeks a glowing pink. They gathered for tea with Yaku in Sugawara’s study, an immaculate room filled with eccentric decor to match the mind of its owner, bright and a tad unyielding, but charming in a way that felt like a second home for Akaashi. 

He tried not to be distracted by the familiarity and charm of Suga’s ever-present liqueur shining on the table between them, but there was no denying the sly grin and wink Suga provided as he slid a glass across the tabletop. It was warm, undoubtedly heated in courtesy of Akaashi’s journey, soothing in the cold of Sugawara’s manor and winter air and providing a hint that perhaps some of the glow to Suga’s cheeks had not been from the cold. 

Suga filled most of the conversation, his excitement for his recent engagement to his chef contagious and refreshing from the gloom Akaashi had been bathing in. It was impossible to feel downtrodden around the sun that was Sugawara and his wedding planning. 

It served as a good distraction from Akaashi’s thoughts, from the letter he had received and the confuddled mess of his emotions or lack thereof. Still, he found his mind wandering back there on occasion, always blinking to bring his attention back to Sugawara. 

“Akaashi,” Suga leaned heavily over the tabletop, a hand dangling over the edge while another propped his chin. Yaku watched him warily, rightly so. “How is your endeavors with the stablehand, hmm? The eccentric one? I guess he’s the only one you really have, but it’s all the same.” 

Akaashi coughed on his whiskey, shaking his head at Yaku’s concern. Suga remained undeterred, his teeth worrying his bottom lip in unbidden glee. 

“Has he _entertained_ you yet?” 

“Sugawara!” Yaku flushed, dragging the alcohol away from Suga’s side of the table with a loud slide of glass on polished wood. 

“I, ah,” Akaashi cleared his throat softly, “I have not been spending much time with Bokuto at the stables as of late.” 

“No?” Yaku ignored Suga’s drunken pout across the table, “But you love the horses, Akaashi. What has been consuming so much of your time that it came between you and the horses? Your business?” 

“Sakusa has been visiting me rather often.” Akaashi admitted with another sip of whiskey. 

“Sakusa?” Suga frowned, “He’s quite… affronting. Not the best social reputation. He wouldn’t even shake my hand when I met him, only stared at it like it were beneath him. I hadn’t considered he would still be visiting you.” 

Akaashi faintly pondered if Sugawara recalled having said something rather similar to such months ago when Akaashi had first admitted to Sakusa’s frequent visits, although they had become far more time consuming in recent weeks. The drink likely didn’t help Sugawara’s memory. 

“Sakusa is visiting you that frequently? That seems an odd sort of suspicious. He’s quite competitive and unabashed in his pursuits, or so I hear.” Yaku leaned back in his chair with an audible creak. “And he is in the same business as your family.” 

Akaashi pursed his lips and considered the words carefully. 

“Sakusa’s aversions aren’t to the people, exactly,” he explained slowly, watching Suga’s expression shift, “but to the dirt and filth. He is… meticulous. Fastidious in his tendencies.” 

“So, the man views the people as filth.” Suga grumbled. 

“He said it wasn’t the people,” sighed Yaku, “Sakusa always seemed rather averse to crowds. I suppose that makes sense as to the cause of such behavior.” 

Akaashi nodded absentmindedly, “The aversion is… interesting. It doesn’t seem to apply to myself.” He watched Suga perk up from the table and quickly amended, “Or Komori, his assistant.” 

Suga dismissed the addition of Komori to the statement with an uncoordinated wave of his hand, almost slapping his face in the process. His palm slapped back down to the table. 

“He touches you, then? Shakes your hand? Scandalous, Akaashi.” 

“That would be rather tame, Sugawara.” Akaashi stated, “Sakusa has been… unabashed-” 

“As he’s known to be.” Yaku interjected quietly. 

“...Yes,” Akaashi confirmed, “He has been affectionate, courting.” The admission felt strange, as if to be confessing a secret he hadn’t been privy to himself. “This week, he sought forth to kiss me in the tack room.” 

“And you let him?” Suga asked slowly, watching Akaashi nod, “Is kissing Sakusa worthwhile? Pleasant?” 

Yaku didn’t interrupt, but his expression alone conveyed his own curiosity. Akaashi sighed, licked his lips in thought and leaned back in his chair. 

“It was nothing special to me.” 

“Nothing special?” Sugawara exchanged a unsubtle glance with Yaku. 

Akaashi nodded, “I didn’t feel anything for it.” 

Suga opened his mouth to speak, interrupted by a quiet knock on the door. He called the guest in with a wave of his hand, even though the visitor couldn’t see it beyond the wood of the door. The man entered with a shuffle of quiet footsteps, closed the door behind him with a gentle click of the latch. 

“Kenma!” Suga beamed, “Come sit for tea, hmm?” 

Kenma shifted his weight quietly, surveyed the half empty bottle of whiskey upon the counter with the quirk of an eyebrow. 

“That doesn’t look like tea, Sugawara…” Kenma said quietly, “Your clock is repaired. One of the gears had fractured. It’s been replaced and the time has been set for you.” 

Sugawara paused, head tilting as if to be listening for the monotone of the clock and smiled. 

“Excellent, Kenma! Come join us for a cup of tea before you go. Warm you up before you travel back in the cold. Akaashi, this is Kenma. He repairs all my gadgets for me. Yaku, you’re well acquainted with Kenma.” 

Kenma sat beside Akaashi, slender fingers tracing the internal components of a pocket watch with masterful dexterity. Akaashi had a hard time turning his gaze away from the movements, entranced by the smooth glide of fingertips on bronze gears. He didn’t doubt Kenma’s expertise, even if all he had seen of it were nothing more than a habit of fidgeting. 

“Do what makes you most comfortable.” Kenma stated quietly, pulling Akaashi’s attention from Kenma’s fidgeting as Suga poured an extra glass of whiskey. “I apologize for eavesdropping. I overheard your predicament.” 

Akaashi hummed contemplatively, neither a confirmation or denial. An acknowledgement. 

So quietly that Akaashi almost didn’t catch it, Kenma added, “It’s what I have done, and I don’t regret it.” 

How Sugawara heard it over his own drunken chatter with Yaku and the clatter of thick glass on the woodtop, Akaashi remained unsure. 

“I’m so happy to hear you’ve chosen to accept the courtship of that suitor you enjoy, Kenma! Even with the social implications of it. I’m surprised, but happy you chose to!” 

Kenma turned away from the attention, and Akaashi smiled. Sugawara could be a bit much when drinking, especially. Not just in his passions, but in simple volume of his declarations. 

“Akaashi,” Suga began slowly, dragging his name out as if chewing cud. It wasn’t Akaashi’s favorite way of having his name said. “You seemed far more content and lively during your affairs with your stablehand. I’d never seen you so flush with excitement.” 

“Bokuto and I never had any physical affairs, Suga,” Akaashi declined, “All of our contact had been brief and chaste, no contact on the lips yet. He has been rather distant from me lately, anyways.” 

“Due to Sakusa, I would wager.” commented Yaku. 

Sugawara leaned in uncomfortably close, invading Akaashi’s personal space with a breath of strong liqueur and heavy lidded eyes. 

“Your cheeks never painted pink when you talked about Sakusa, but they’re such a pretty color now.” Suga teased, “And most notably, Akaashi, you said _yet.”_

“Those red cheeks would be your own from having too much drink, Sugawara.” Kenma remarked softly, flipping the clasp back of the pocket watch closed over the components within. “Akaashi’s business is his own.” 

Akaashi smiled faintly at Kenma’s kind deflection and sharp wit, allowing the conversation to fade from his attention and consider the insinuations of his own phrasing. Even if Sugawara had been out of wits when bringing it forth to his attention, Akaashi stated it. They were his own words. 

_Yet._

He found himself simultaneously fearful and excited at the implications. 

Washio greeted Akaashi only an hour later at the chaise with a curt nod, carted them down the cobblestone path to the rhythm of hooves into the mud of the roads in a shroud of fog. The freezing rain Akaashi had bundled himself against in the early hour of morning had warmed throughout the day, but left in its wake a fog to haunt Akaashi’s dreams and dust his coat and hair with moisture. He paid it no mind, tried not to consider the ominous feeling of it all, but focused on the rush of wind beyond the chaise window and the desire to return to the stables. 

Upon arriving at his own estate, he greeted Konoha as warmly as he could muster, an attempt at comfort for the sharp eyes and searching wit Konoha presented while assisting him with his coat. 

“Would you care for tea before you rest?” 

Akaashi hummed, “As pleasant as that sounds, I would like to go about a ride in the pasture. I simply want to change from my soaked wardrobe into a dry one.” 

“It is close to supper hour.” 

“I’m aware, Konoha, thank you.” He pulled wet gloves from his fingers, deposited them in Konoha’s open grasp and walked with purpose to his quarters, bootheels echoing up the stairs. 

Akaashi radiated with nervous energy, his fingers fumbling with every other button as he pried the wet waistcoat from his back and laid it messily over the edge of the bedpost. His mind raced, anticipation curled in his throat until he caught himself smiling in the mirror, a new white undershirt tucked into dry navy trousers high on his waist. It reminded him of before, of when he had smoothed hands along his own thighs, dipped his fingertips a bit too far, too crassly along the waistband of his trousers in teasing. 

It felt like so long ago. 

He missed it dearly, missed all the time he had spent with Bokuto prior to his parents’ passing, their apparent murder, and Akaashi had only just realized that he had felt withdrawals for these past weeks. As anticipated, the new environment, the company of a third party granted clarity, even if it had been soaked in hot whiskey. 

Akaashi fastened the laces on his boots, pulled them tight with an audible stretch of leather. _Satisfying,_ something about it feeling refreshing although nothing about the boots themselves had changed. He ran his fingers through his hair, breathed a sigh, and started down the staircase towards the stables with the click of the bedroom door behind him. 

Dusk painted the sky hues of orange and violet in the horizon, the bite of winter chilling Akaashi’s skin and revealing his breath in carefully controlled shivers of white that lingered in the garden longer than Akaashi himself. Even still, his mind raced faster than his footsteps. 

Sakusa had been pleasant to engage with, a distraction from his own weakness in the light of the late masters’ deaths, but Yaku had so clearly stated that they were within the same business. Akaashi had yet to consider it. Sakusa had been courteous and abiding of Akaashi prior, but his demeanor proved more obliging, more affectionate and seeking of Akaashi’s company and attentions after the news spread of the fate of the Akaashi estate. 

He didn’t want to consider that Sakusa’s visits had been in manipulation, his intentions clouded and unclear. It pained him, even if Sakusa’s company wasn’t what Akaashi sought to indulge in. The concept of betrayal, of falsified affections curled something dark in his gut, and he swallowed the urge to dispose of it in the compost. 

Thoughts whirled at the implications, of this and of that, a confudled mess at the possibility of what further news Daishou could report to him in person upon his visit, whenever that may be. He wished Daishou had provided him more information in his letter, although he hadn’t the slightest idea of what that information consisted of. It would be better than waiting, his mind frayed at the edges as he worries chapped lips between his teeth and begs for the call of Daishou’s company. 

Akaashi found himself both eager and dreading the encounter. There was comfort in his recent state, although the depression suffocated his ambitions. It had become regular, familiar in its redundancy and complacency. The depression served as Akaashi’s safe space, a place where he could just exist, although the corners of the darkest shadows had more than once attempted to take him from what he enjoys most, pulling him distant from the world around him, from Bokuto and Konoha, his house staff, and from himself. 

Bokuto smiled, more than ecstatic to oblige when Akaashi requested to ready Fukuro, although he spoke hesitance at the late hour. While the excitement grew tenfold at the admittance that Akaashi wished for Bokuto’s company as well, his stature seemed to waiver, shifting to creak the wood of the stable floor beneath his feet under Akaashi’s curious gaze. 

“Bokuto?” 

“Ah, nothing, Akaashi!” Bokuto flashed a toothy grin, a little forced. “I’ll ready the horses for you.” 

He stood for another moment, distracted yet eager, before jogging out to retrieve the horses. Akaashi tried not to wonder why he had shown such hesitance, his own nerves damaging enough. 

The hesitance didn’t seem to last, Bokuto’s footsteps a flurry of excited rhythm and a hum in his chest that seemed to coil around Akaashi where he stood. This was the man Akaashi had grown so fond of, a whirlwind of sound and energy, of bright smiles and uninhibited in all tasks he performed. Sakusa was refined, sharp and poised with wit, but Bokuto was raw, his emotions as wild as the rest of him, his gestures and words genuine to the very core of his being. 

Bokuto was eccentric, _owlish,_ and Akaashi had always loved owls. 

Months, or perhaps only weeks ago, if one had asked, Akaashi could have stated in relative confidence of the affinity the stablehand seemed to hold for him, but with all the time Akaashi dedicated to Sakusa, the certainty dwindled from a bonfire to a flickering candle. He watched Bokuto lift the saddle to Fukuro’s back, tighten the girth with a huff of effort, slip the bit of the bridle into the horse’s mouth. 

Bokuto had avoided him, and Akaashi pondered if it were him or Sakusa he had been truly avoiding, or perhaps an amalgamation of both. He hoped it had truly been just Sakusa. The idea of having possibly done something to warrant being avoided by Bokuto made his mind spin and gut sour. 

Nervous, Akaashi rubbed his hands end over end, from fingertip to palm, pulled taut the skin from base to the tip of every finger, once, twice, and thrice before Bokuto announced that the horses were ready. With a smile and nod, Akaashi mounted Fukuro with a huff and swing of his leg, settling into the saddle like it was home. 

Bokuto remained as lively as he had been prior to daunting events, animated with chatter and cheer as he pointed out critters he saw at dusk, at the silhouettes of fish in the river and his own progress at riding horseback, of course at the tutelage of Komi. He acted as though time hadn’t passed, as if Akaashi hadn’t so clearly seen an odd sort of rift between them, perhaps one named a title so familiar, and yet Akaashi couldn’t seem to grasp whether to be relieved at this lack of tension or disturbed by the possibility of its insincerity. 

Orange faded, the sky cooling into a crisp night of clear violets and blue patches of clouds that hung low, heavy with the weight of rain and ice. Akaashi relished in the calm of night, ignored the sting of the cold against his cheeks, the puff of fog showing his every breath. He closed his eyes, focused on the sound of hooves on the riverbed, the wind through the trees and whistling through the grass, of the call of an owl- 

“Akaashi?” 

“Yes, Bokuto?” Akaashi breathed in the night air deeply, opened his eyes to see Bokuto beside him, just where he had seemingly always been. 

“Aren’t you tired? You rode out to Sugawara’s only this morning, and you haven’t yet had supper.” 

“I am a bit, yes.” 

“It’s getting fairly late. Maybe we should go back to the estate so you can rest.” 

A spike of anxiety tightened Akaashi’s throat. He couldn’t identify why exactly, yet he knew precisely the cause. 

“Let’s take a rest by the river first, let the horses take a moment’s rest as well.” 

Before Bokuto could properly reply, Akaashi stretched, pulled the reins to steer Fukuro closer to the riverside, to were they could sit and Akaashi could watch the water pass by. He knew Bokuto would follow, hoped he wouldn’t contest the idea of sitting together at the late hour. 

“Oh. Ah, yes. I’ve never rode a horse in the dark before, though...” 

Akaashi didn’t respond. He licked his lips, pursed them to stifle the nervous flutter in his stomach and dismounted with practiced ease. He heard Bokuto follow suit, the shuffle of clothes and thud of boots hitting the dirt and rocks below. It felt oddly comforting. 

He knew it must have been obvious. Bokuto wasn’t dense enough not to have noticed Akaashi’s anxiety, his purposeful yet stiff movements as they sat by the waterside, the rain from the earth soaking through Akaashi’s trousers to chill his skin underneath. He hadn’t thought this through, hadn’t thought _anything_ through, but he knew what he needed, and it was to be away from the estate, to ride with Fukuro and Bokuto again. He needed to feel something again, to gain a grasp on the reality he had drifted from. 

To breathe some fresh air and sort out his thoughts, that’s what Akaashi needed. 

They sat quietly, watched the ripples of the water in the river, heard the rustle of the horses grazing at their backside, the sing of crickets and hum of the night. It stood as such a contrast from the noise in Akaashi’s mind. Akaashi tucked his knees to his chest, rested his chin on his legs and breathed slowly. He could feel Bokuto beside him, not touching but just close enough that Akaashi knew he was there, legs sprawled across the dirt and hands resting behind him. 

Casual. He looked so casual and relaxed, contented to just sit in the night beside the river, not afraid to let his hands dirty in the earth, to feel the world around him, but Akaashi knew it couldn’t last. He wouldn’t allow it, his own nerves and excitement leaving him restless. 

“Bokuto?” 

Bokuto hummed an inquiry, and tilted his head to look at him. Akaashi couldn’t see it, just the movement in his peripherals and the burn of his attention, his eyes watching the water before them as his fingers grasped the fabric of his trousers tight, heart racing and cheeks burning. He didn’t need to look, could practically feel the way Bokuto’s eyes watched him curiously, sharp and wide and just a little bit crooked. 

Akaashi didn’t know why he liked them so much, he just _did._

“Bokuto,” he repeated, just to say his name again. “Can I kiss you?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _ALKDJFA;LSKDFJA;LSFALSKDFJ_   
>  I ended up cutting out a scene so this is way shorter than anticipated but  
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> Chapter 14 is finished, just being beta'd ~


	14. The Beginning and The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _I'm so sorry for the delays and short chapter please forgive this poor soul_   
>  Also this chapter is unbeta'd. Forgive me.

** [Chapter 14: The Beginning and the End] **

Akaashi listened for Bokuto’s reaction carefully, the sharp intake of breath and then _nothing._ Bokuto froze, uncharacteristically silent. From his peripherals, Akaashi could see his wide eyes, furrowed brows in confusion, but he wasn’t _speaking._

Startled, mouth agape, Akaashi wondered if Bokuto was actually breathing. 

He almost laughed, smiled weakly and ran his fingers through his hair. Akaashi filled with dread; the longer Bokuto remained silent, the more Akaashi became convinced that he had overstepped, that what once had been between them prior to Sakusa could not be recovered. He tried to reason with his own anxiety, tried to assure himself that Bokuto was simply surprised by the inquiry, yet his own weak smile melts away, teeth worrying at his bottom lip as he stared forward at the river again, watching a leaf float by without him. 

It felt like minutes _-hours-_ but Akaashi held certainty it had been merely seconds until his anxiety pooled into resolve. 

The lack of answer failed to encourage, but Akaashi took the chance, wrapping a cold hand around the meat of Bokuto’s thigh for stability and pressing his lips to Bokuto’s before he had a chance to reconsider. 

Bokuto squeaked, grunted a noise of surprise, a gasp through his nose before he came to life, crushing Akaashi into a tight embrace, dragging him across the dirt and rocks of the riverside, nearly pulling him into his lap. He never allowed their lips to part, leaving Akaashi to suffocate, inhaling deeply through his nose at every slim moment of reprieve. It was more than Akaashi had considered, more than he could have anticipated, though the more he thought of it, the more it seemed… _correct._

He hadn’t truly thought about it anyways, how that enthusiasm might translate into everything Bokuto does, but the enthusiasm aside, he still managed to be _soft,_ tentative in case Akaashi retreated. Considerate, yet excited, soft, yet firm, and strong, yet delicate. Bokuto pulled Akaashi tight, hummed and pressed in a little more firmly, more confident. 

Akaashi finally felt _alive._

He smiled into the kiss, pressed closer, heart racing with excitement, palpable and vibrant. He felt alive for the first time in months, _truly alive,_ his arms wrapped around Bokuto, grasp tight against the fabric on defined shoulder blades and it left him giddy that Bokuto seemed to vibrate at his touch. 

Akaashi had missed this vibrance, the sincerity and immodesty in his every action, always authentic and unbidden by society, a blessing that Akaashi wished he had been fortunate enough to have had bestowed on himself. He would never describe himself as envious but admiring, hours spent at the windows of the estate watching Bokuto work in the fields or at his side. He preferred Bokuto’s company, never tired of him. 

Akaashi didn’t want to think about how long he had been drifting in mourning, how easily he had been pulled aside by Sakusa, whom Akaashi was unsure of his integrity. Too long, too many weeks spent in abysmal despair, curled into himself in the darkness of his quarters, of his study, his own consciousness fickle and dubious. 

Had it not been for Konoha’s schedule keeping, his gentle nudges at Akaashi into productivity and liveliness, Akaashi certainly would not know the time of day, or perhaps even the day at all. Without the winter chill, he would forget the seasons, the upcoming date of birth, the rise in chaise sales for his business. He had barely known what happened within himself, not to mention what lay beyond him. 

Akaashi curled cold fingers into Bokuto’s hair, felt the sharp intake of breath. He could feel himself crying, hoped that it wasn’t too obvious, too off-putting for Bokuto. He knew it would make Bokuto upset, make him pull back, but Akaashi needed the affection, needed to feel the world around him so vividly. He relished in the feel of chapped lips on his own, hot breath against his skin, the strength of Bokuto’s embrace, the feel of black and white hair threaded between his fingers. 

Bokuto mumbled words incomprehensibly, bits of vowels and consonants that broke apart and never fastened into anything worthwhile. It made Akaashi laugh into the kiss. Everything made Akaashi laugh, his relief a poison that spread his lips thin and exhausted his cheeks. It _hurt,_ smiling this much hurt, his jaw aching and cheeks sore, but Akaashi wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

When they parted, Akaashi relaxing back with a crinkle of dirt and rocks beneath the weight of his legs, Akaashi laughed loudly, unbidden and it felt like the first real sound he had made in months. Raw, unbidden, and so unhinged, he was certain, but above all else it stood to be _real._ He scrubbed his face with his sleeve, the fabric rough when wet on cold skin, and sniffled. 

“Akaashi?” Bokuto wrapped rough fingers around Akaashi’s wrist, pulling his hands from his face. “Akaashi! You’re crying?” 

Tears brimmed and trailed along Akaashi’s cheeks, his smile so wide, he began to fear it would become permanent. Akaashi shook his head, a lie he knew he would never get away with, and roped his arms around Bokuto’s neck, kissing away his questions and protests with feverence. He could feel the confused frown from Bokuto, his concern evident, but he never pushed Akaashi away, only returned the affection. 

It was too much, but it was what Akaashi needed, to feel in its entirety everything he had missed in the last several weeks. 

Bokuto was his home, warm and comforting, always inviting yet lively. A fireplace in the dead of winter, a source of heat and light to illuminate his way. His grip strong at Akaashi’s back, holding him close as if he were afraid Akaashi would slip between the cracks at any moment. Or perhaps he was concerned for Akaashi’s sanity, either seemed reasonable. 

There was nothing that Akaashi regretted more than the missed time between them, all of the rides and tutoring neglected, laughs never had, bonding that had never come to be. 

He pulled back from Bokuto, allowed him to push curls of hair from his forehead affectionately. 

“I apologize,” Akaashi said, gaze averted, “I hadn’t realized.” 

“I don’t know what you’re apologizing about, ‘Kaashi.” 

Akaashi hummed, bit his lip in contemplation for a moment. “For allowing my time to be monopolized, and neglecting our rides and... your... training.” 

Akaashi hesitated to admit that the rides themselves were not his primary concern, not what he was most apologetic for neglecting, but watched Bokuto run his fingers through his hair, lean back with a sigh. 

“I.. ah..” Bokuto scrunched his face. “I had been about to leave.” 

“Leave?” Akaashi’s heart dropped. “The estate?” _Me?_ “Why would you leave the estate?” 

He stared, terrified of the answer, chest tight. Bokuto shifted uncomfortably, leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Something resembling anger boiled in Akaashi’s gut, at himself or indignance that Bokuto would leave, he was unsure. 

Neglect. The word consumed his mind again and again, that Akaashi had neglected everything for himself, his relationships, the estate, his business, even his own wellbeing, and _Bokuto._

“I can’t really say?” Bokuto scratched his head, shakes it when Akaashi opens his mouth to protest for a clear answer. “I mean, I could but… It’s not worth it. It doesn’t matter anymore.” 

Dubiously, Akaashi nodded his agreement. He stood unconvinced this was the case, but the growl of his stomach and hands curled around Akaashi thighs persuaded him to ask again at a later date. He could see the unease in Bokuto’s brow, the gears that turned just below the surface, but didn’t refuse when Bokuto wordlessly pulled him completely into his lap. It was a little uncomfortable, and he’s sure that the moist earth on the seat of his pants was dirtying Bokuto’s trousers, but he curled in, sighed, and tried to relax again. 

His mind raced, thoughts of past and future that never seemed to settle, and found it a miracle that even his body was able to sit still with how his mind bounced forward and back. It was nerve-wracking, things accelerating too quickly, a little too abruptly, but Akaashi focused on the rise and fall of Bokuto’s chest, the exhaustion seeping into his body and mind. 

Despite the discomfort, the abrupt speed that Bokuto seemed to wholeheartedly accept and embrace Akaashi’s interest in him, he found himself following the rhythm of Bokuto’s breath, the steady beat of his heart and ignored the chill of the cold winter wind. He wanted so desperately to allow this time to persist, this simple pause before he has to venture back to the estate, to handle his business dealings, his associations with Sakusa, and most notably his incoming guest, Daishou. 

Moments passed, only the sounds of Bokuto breathing, the shift of the horses in the grass, and the quiet rush of the river. Bokuto’s warmth soothed an ache Akaashi couldn’t quite describe, a wave like rhythm that Akaashi slowly drifted with, nearly asleep before that warmth shifts again, Bokuto clearing his throat. Akaashi frowned. 

“What does this mean, exactly?” 

Akaashi’s groggy mind almost hadn’t comprehended the question properly, a pause before he answered. 

“Courtship, if that is acceptable to you.” 

Bokuto shouted something incomprehensible, nuzzled his face into Akaashi’s hair and pulled him impossibly closer, ignoring Akaashi’s grunt of protest when he squeezed too tightly. Akaashi was grateful his bruises from what felt like so long ago had since healed, although his ears rang with the sound of Bokuto’s exclaim. 

“I’m happy with that.” said Bokuto, “And I’m happy you let me ride with you again today, ‘Kaashi.” 

Akaashi hummed thoughtfully, “I couldn’t agree more.” 

Silence poured over them, comfortable and restful, the sounds of crickets and splash of the river lulling Akaashi into a drowsy half-sleep, blinking with a furrow of his brow when the growl of his stomach interrupted. He almost fell into the dirt when Bokuto laughed, his whole body a jostle of movement. 

“Hungry, Akaashi?” Bokuto snorted, “I could cook you dinner. It’s far past supper hour. I’m sure Konoha and Yuuki and Kaori are far from the kitchen now.” 

“Yes,” he agreed shamelessly, shifting himself out of Bokuto’s lap and dusting dirt from his trousers. “I would enjoy that. I had only whiskey at Sugawara’s estate.” 

“Does he live off of whiskey?” 

Akaashi laughed, “Sometimes, I do think so. On some occasions, he brings scotch or rum. I do believe his preference tends towards whiskey, though.” 

Bokuto’s laugh alone made Akaashi feel warm, helping him up from the dirt and mounting the horses with only the scarce moonlight and the horses intuition to guide them. 

Akaashi relaxed on the way home, the sound of Fukuro’s hooves on the stone path as they neared the barn echoing in a solid, smooth rhythm. Bokuto chattered the entirety of the way, nonsensical ramblings that led Akaashi to believe his words were his primary choice to expel excitement. He paid it no mind, but listened to every word. 

They groomed the horses as a team, picking mud and rocks from their hooves and brushing out tangles with care. It was quiet save for the occasional huff from a horse, the creak of wood beneath hooves and leather riding boots, and Bokuto’s upbeat hum. It was pleasant, nearly distraction enough from Akaashi’s wonderings about Daishou, his eagerness to hear him out within the confines of his study. Whenever Akaashi’s mind pondered, it was easily steered back through playful nudges from Bokuto and bright smiles. 

He wondered if Bokuto knew or saw the way Akaashi’s mind faltered into serious ponderings, if his nudges were strategic as they always seem to arrive just as he began to slip, but steered the thought from his mind and smiled when Bokuto slipped the hoof pick from his grasp. Bokuto kept the anxiety at bay, allowed Akaashi to breathe and smother the anticipation with healthy distractions. 

Bokuto lifted the saddles from the fencing in the safety and warmth of the stables, placing them with ease on the racks in the tack room. They kissed again in the tack room, soft, quiet, not afraid to be caught but afraid of their own pace, until the growl of Akaashi’s stomach pulled them into motion with a boisterous laugh. Akaashi couldn’t help but smile. It was a little comedic, a tad ridiculous. 

With the rest of the house staff asleep at the late hour, Akaashi shuffled Bokuto into the kitchen impatiently, digging around the pantry for ingredients he didn’t know they had. He knew Bokuto could cook, had tasted and been impressed with his skills before, but watching him in motion was almost just as satisfying as tasting the food itself. 

“You want eggs?” Bokuto grinned, nearly dropping the basket when Akaashi handed it to him. “This late?” 

“If you would, please.” 

“Anything you like, Akaashi.” 

“Thank you.” 

Time passed slowly, quietly in the kitchen with only the shuffle of Bokuto's footsteps and clatter of utensils when he nearly dropped the entire drawer of them to the floor. He stirred ingredients wildly in a bowl, spilling droplets of egg whites and yolk to the countertop without a second thought. 

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Bokuto asked suddenly. 

For only a brief moment, Akaashi thought he meant the eggs. 

“Yes.” 

He could see Bokuto's expression crinkle, arms seemingly working on their own without issue to crack more eggs, cut vegetables, and mix in spices. There was a second where Akaashi considered that perhaps he _had_ meant the eggs, but the answer would have been the same regardless. Once finished, he placed the dirty spoon onto the counter and turned to face Akaashi. 

“You're sure? Truly certain? Really Sure?” 

“Yes, Bokuto.” 

“Truly?” 

“The more times you inquire, the less certain I become.” 

“Oh! Oh, of course. Sorry.” 

Akaashi hummed. A little awkwardly, he leaned against Bokuto’s side, wrapped an arm around him in comfort and kissed his cheek. Bokuto beamed at the affection, his doubts apparently forgotten with the simple gesture. It felt a little awkward, _they_ were a little awkward, stepping on toes, nearly elbowing Akaashi in the chest, and nearly toppling over when Akaashi didn’t scoot fast enough for Bokuto to pour the milk like he wanted. 

But it was _enjoyable._ It was time with Bokuto and the food was coming along rather nicely in Akaashi’s opinion. 

Bokuto poured the egg mixture into the hot pan, listened to the sizzle with his arms wrapped around Akaashi’s waist and face nuzzled into his nape. Akaashi listened to the sounds of the kitchen, of Bokuto breathing, murmuring into his ear, to the shuffle of footsteps on tile- 

“Oh.” 

Konoha stared at the doorway of the kitchen, in his arms the familiar bronze tray of tea that Akaashi supposed must have been delivered to his room with or without Akaashi’s presence. He admired the diligence to routine. 

“Should I…” Konoha paused, watched curiously as Bokuto cooked, unaffected by his appearance in the kitchen. “Shall I cancel future visits from Sakusa and Komori?” 

“I think it would be appreciated by Sakusa to hear from myself personally. Instead, perhaps request a supper at his estate. It is likely about time I have gone to see it as well.” 

“And simply mention nothing of-” Konoha waved his hand vaguely at Bokuto. “-this?” 

“If you would, please.” 

An awkward moment passed before Konoha sighed, scratched the back of his head, ruffling his hair. He seemed to shift to and fro uncomfortably, fabric jostling with each movement. In the silence of the kitchen, it was deafening. 

“Need you anything else?” 

Akaashi smiled what he hoped to be in comfort. “That’s all, Konoha. Thank you.” 

“Okay. Good night, then.” 

As Konoha walked from the kitchen, footsteps fading around the corner and down the hall, Akaashi pondered if Konoha felt offset by their missed evening tea, or if something or someone else wrinkled his brow and set thin lips into a shallow frown. He hoped it to be simply the missed tea. 

They ate in the kitchen, something so informal, yet Bokuto kept chatter lively, explained if they ate standing in the kitchen, they wouldn’t have to set the table, and for a brief moment Akaashi laughed at how starkly different Bokuto and Sakusa were. Bokuto tirelessly described how Kuroo and he used to never set the table, how it had saved him so much time and dishes but they also had been why he didn’t know how to set a table until Konoha taught him, rambling in the cold echos of the kitchen tiles. He leaned against the countertop, watched out the window with Bokuto and his chatter in his peripherals. 

It wasn’t what he had expected from today, but when there had been no expectations to begin with, he found little disappointment and notable satisfaction at both the current moment and Bokuto’s cooking. 

“Would you care for tea, Bokuto? Konoha had prepared it although, it has likely grown cold.” 

“You always have tea before bed, right?” 

“...I do.” 

“How very proper, Akaashi.” 

“You can join me in my quarters for tea.” Akaashi said, surprised at his own words as his own lack of planning left him floundering. Without a schedule, a routine to follow, Akaashi was left at his own impulse. 

“That’s…” Bokuto flushed, “Isn’t that kind of.. Improper? Early? Akaashi?” 

“You’ve already stayed in my bed once, while I laid ill. If you’re discomforted, it’s certainly only a request, not a demand, Bokuto.” 

Akaashi carried the bronze tray, surprised by its weight and wondered if and when Konoha ever had complained about the heft of the chore, but dismissed the idea empty handed. 

Bokuto’s fondness for tea turned out to be rather limited, as Akaashi discovered while observing him pour cube after cube of sugar into the porcelain cup. Certainly, its contents had become more of a syrup than a tea. Akaashi smiled idly at the thought, sipped his own evening tea. The hybridization of routine and new company felt off putting yet comfortable, the warmth of the tea a soothing potion that left him weary. 

When Akaashi finally drew away the covers for his bed, the invitation stood yet untouched, the sheets cool to the touch and just a stiff as he had recalled them to be. He crawled beneath them as he always had, a shiver against the cold, and prayed for a night without the sleep terrors to keep him sane. If all were to be as he wished it, Daishou would arrive in the morning, his lips loose with information to soothe Akaashi’s curiosity. 

Yet when he woke, Akaashi found only Bokuto at his bedside, the clank of teacups on brass a discomforting alarm. 

“Bokuto,” Akaashi inquired, “Can I assist you?” 

“No no, I have got it” Bokuto set the tea tray onto the nightstand carefully, eyes bright for the early hour. “I need to tell Kuroo!” 

Akaashi squinted, rubbed his eyes and blinked at Bokuto before rubbing his eyes again. The blinding smile never faded. 

“About tea?” 

“No! About us, Akaashi. Kuroo needs to know! Is that okay? This isn’t supposed to be a secret right? I’m not good with secrets…” 

“This doesn’t surprise me.” Akaashi stated slowly. “I suppose you may tell Kuroo. I see no reason why not to do so. When did you plan to visit them? Or did you intend to send the news via courier?” Akaashi stretched, reached to bring a cup of hot tea to his lips. 

“We can go today!” 

Akaashi nodded, conceded that it would stand to be a lengthy day ahead and downed the rest of his tea in an unyielding fashion. He needed far more than a single cup of breakfast tea if that were to be how the day goes. On his second cup of tea, Konoha knocked, peaked within the bedroom with the news of a new letter from Daishou, an unaddressed announcement detailing his arrival upon late afternoon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Camp Nano!   
> So I plan to have this fic completed within the month!   
> The last two months or so have been like the worst two months of my life so  
> But I'm going to get back on track! 
> 
> Thank you for everyone who sent me support and comments!   
> It helped inspire me to keep going and finish this up!

**Author's Note:**

> [Art by Suguru](http://foxyena.tumblr.com/post/162188483483/art-commission-by-suguru-for-courtship-of-the-owl)   
>  [Art by FoxyenaArts](http://foxyenaarts.tumblr.com/post/162523829980/quick-sketch-of-aristocratakaashi-in-his-dressage)   
>  [Art by Nekokat42](http://nekokat42.tumblr.com/post/162794522342/stop-pouring-your-heart-out-to-a-horse-bokuto)   
>  [More Art by FoxyenaArts](http://foxyenaarts.tumblr.com/post/162810057205/some-bruised-and-concussed-akaashi-doodles-for)   
>  [Art by SevenSwells](http://foxyena.tumblr.com/post/163047783838/sevenswells-a-very-vey-soft-akaashi-cuddling-a)   
>  [ Art by Ghostnapzzz ](http://foxyena.tumblr.com/post/163275084103/sakuaka-by-ghostnapzzz-for-courtship-of-the-owl-by)   
>  [ Calligraphy by LovelySiruu ](http://foxyena.tumblr.com/post/163345002118/lovelysiruu-courtship-of-the-owls-may-be-my)   
>  [ Art by Gutspace ](http://foxyena.tumblr.com/post/163740514968/art-by-gutspace-for-courtship-of-the-owl-by)   
>  [ Art by TheHauntedBoy ](http://foxyena.tumblr.com/post/164197882278/sakuaka-by-thehauntedboy-for-courtship-of-the-owl)   
>  [ Art by @_gngu ](http://foxyena.tumblr.com/post/164283391783/sakuaka-art-by-gngu-on-twitter-for-courtship)


End file.
